The Homestead: Twenty-Five Years Later (SOA FanFic)
by storyteller0318
Summary: This picks up twenty-five years after Jax Teller's death. Wendy and Nero are happily married, and Thomas and Abel are grown. When tragedy comes for the heirs of SAMCRO, a family reunion is necessary. The return to the homestead brings up the past while peeking into the future...
1. Chapter 1

_Nero Padilla was dying._ It had taken eighty years, but his moment was coming; he could feel it in the hollow ache in his bones. His chest felt full of filament and cotton, and he knew that, without the damned oxygen tubing stuck in his nose, he would have been dead long ago.

He looked down at his hands. They lay flat on an old flannel blanket Wendy had covered him with. The violet tinge of his fingers and his hands almost matched the stripes that crisscrossed the fabric. He wanted to ball them into fists. He wanted to fight the lung cancer that was killing him, but he knew he'd beaten the odds long ago. After leaving Jax Teller and the Sons of Anarchy behind, death was no longer something he feared, because it was no longer beating down his door. He was an old man now. It was something he never thought he'd be.

"Hey Papi, are you hungry?" Wendy's voice filled his ears, and he smiled. _Wendy. A junkie blessing._ The irony never escaped him. A harrowing tale of street life gone right, just like he was, and he loved her so much it hurt sometimes. A quarter of a century had passed since they left Charming together, Abel and Thomas in tow. They'd come to the farm to begin anew, and Lucius followed shortly thereafter. In the days and months that followed, they became a family, just like Jax wanted.

Now, Wendy Case Padilla, looking younger than her fifty-eight years, stared at her husband. Her sepia eyes drank him in slowly, and her heart grew heavier with each breath he took. She knew she was losing him. The question was no longer if; it was when, and when he was gone, she had no idea what she was going to do. The last twenty-five years had revolved around him, around the kids, and now that they were grown, she and Nero had settled into a wonderful domesticity neither one knew they had in them. She loved him, and she was going to miss him, but she'd go on without him. After all, they all left her in the end anyway. It would hurt like hell, probably just as much as it did when Jax died, but it was out of their hands. After all, guns and the streets weren't taking him from her. Cancer and God were taking Nero Padilla. Even she couldn't fight that.

"Nah love, I'm good." Nero hadn't enjoyed food in ages. Nothing tasted good, and more often than not, he threw it up anyway. He rarely ate now. He gave a weak smile, but Wendy could see where love still gleamed hot and intense for her within his eyes. Her cheeks flushed pink as she recalled the way he used to ravish her. He loved her in a way no other man had ever loved her; she was cherished and respected. It took a while to become accustomed to it, but once she did, she realized how toxic her past life was. Tears filled her eyes. Charming and SAMCRO really felt like another world, another life, but the memories were still as fresh as they ever were. When they came by way of nightmares or panic attacks, Nero would hold her and remind her that time was long gone. Still, a nagging voice in Wendy's mind questioned who would hold her once Nero closed his eyes for good.

She slowly entered the room they'd shared for so long. Painted light, pretty lavender, it was a good size, big enough for a California King bed and a couple of gorgeous oak antique dressers from Gemma's father's house. On the walls were pictures of the kids in various stages of growth, framed in silver and pewter frames. Two huge stained glass windows refracted rainbow light into the room. Wendy loved those windows. It was her favorite feature of the house.  
>In the center of the massive bed, Nero sat upright, the oxygen tank at his side. The rumble of it filled the room with a deep, vibrating sound that reminded Wendy of the old compressors at TM. She shivered with the memory, then quickly shook it off. She sat next to Nero and took his hand in hers. It was alabaster smooth and ice cold, and it was then that she noticed how strange her hand looked in his grasp. She could see pink of her skin almost gleam against the purple of his. She rested her head on his shoulder. Time was moving faster than she had realized. For a while, they just sat there, hand in hand, her head on him, listening to the whirl of the oxygen machine. The way the sound ebbed and flowed began to lull Wendy into a deep slumber. Nero listened as her healthy breathing filled the room. How he longed to make that sound.<p>

"What am I going to do without you, Mami?" Nero's whisper split the silence. Wendy's eyes snapped open, her momentary respite forgotten. His hand grasped hers as tightly as it could. Wendy's heart seized with the question. It sounded so damned sad. It wasn't something she'd considered. There were days she believed in Heaven and Hell, and then there were days she didn't care to know. Her days lately had been spent caring for her husband and her house. His comfort was paramount, and nothing else mattered now. There was little time to consider anything else.

Nero had nothing but time to consider it. The last six months, as the cancer tore away at his health and made it path of destruction through his body, he was left unable to move without Wendy. Once a king of the Stockton streets, Nero wondered what his vatos would say if they could see his skeletal frame. He wondered how hard they would think he was with his walker and his oxygen. There had been so much time to think of the past, of the present, and of the future. Death didn't scare him. What awaited on the other side didn't scare him. Having to wait for the woman at his side scared him. Nero loved his wife. There was no question of that.

"You'll be fine," Wendy said. She forced a smile as she tried to keep the warble from her throat. "You're going to Heaven, and you'll be spending so much time with your boy, you won't even notice I'm missing until I get there."

_ Lucius. _It would be twenty-three years next month since he'd held his son. The doctor had said it could happen that way. He hadn't been the least bit surprised. A sudden illness, a moment where Lucius' body just doesn't cooperate, an infection, those things were just as deadly as the bullets his father had dodged on the streets. In the end, a bout of antibiotic resistant pneumonia bested Nero's only biological son. Nero always thought it would be something bigger that would take the boy out.

Nero inhaled deeply. Since the cancer, Nero would sometimes imagine his lungs were Lucius'. He tried to understand the pain as they filled with fluid. He would take deep breaths and revel in the agony. In a sadistic way, cancer had given Nero a connection to his son. The pain made it all alright.

"I don't know about Heaven, Mami," he said quietly.

"You're going to Heaven, Nero." Wendy was firm now. The man by her side was not the man that worked the streets. He wasn't even the man that ran Diosa. The man by her side was kind and good and morally sound. He had convictions. He had morals. Anything that he did before SAMCRO or during SAMCRO was long forgiven, at least it was in her eyes. Wendy wasn't God, but she knew a good man when she saw one, and Nero Padilla was the best kind of man.

Nero shrugged his shoulders."You and my kids are the only things that make me long for the Hereafter, Mami. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't care if I blew away into oblivion." He spoke the truth. Without them, his life would have been meaningless, especially after Lucius' passing. He looked down at Wendy. Her face was still as beautiful as it had been all those years ago. The blonde highlights that intermingled with the shades of honey and chocolate were now soft, glittering silver. The body that pressed against him was still wiry and tight, and he longed to function like a man, just one last time, with her.

Without a word, he bent his head and touched his cool lips to hers. The life coursing through her veins made him acutely aware of the lack of life coursing through his. Wendy returned the gentle kiss, and she rested her hand on his chest. Nero's heart still beat beneath her hand. It clicked and it sputtered, but it was still beating. The comfort of it amazed her. The fact that she could still want him now, even in this state, amazed her. Her fingers traced his beautiful square jawline. The sound of the doorbell broke their tentative embrace.

"Who the hell is here?" Nero's voice was slightly agitated. They were not expecting visitors. Wendy swung her legs over the bed and quickly stood. Nero watched, admiring her frame as she adjusted her plain white t-shirt. With a sweet smile, she circled the bed and made her way out to the hallway.

"Hey Wendy," Nero called. He breathed slowly. He allowed the pain to consume him as he broke from her. His breath came in long, deliberate pants. Wendy watched him struggle to speak. She knew it would eventually subside, and he'd be okay. That gnawing in her gut reminded her that one day soon that wouldn't be the case.

"I love you too, Nero." Tears sprung to her eyes, but she didn't let them fall. He smiled, relieved to be understood without saying a word.

Wendy raced down the hallway. _Who the hell would be here this time of day? _She smoothed her long, tousled waves as she padded barefoot towards the door. As she neared, she could make out the faint silhouette of a man through the stained glass. She'd loved the bedroom stained glass so much, she asked if Nero could have some installed in their front door. Nero happily granted that wish.

Grasping the antique brass knob, she pulled the heavy door open. Before her was a man standing over six feet tall. Long dark jeans hung on his finely muscled frame, and his feet were covered by lackluster black combat boots. A tight blue thermal hugged every edge of his body, and the blue and gray flannel he wore atop it kept him warm while a frigid wind circled him. He adjusted the heavy backpack he carried, and he ran an anxious hand through his dark hair. Piercing blue eyes, eyes so familiar Wendy actually gasped, stared back at her. When the man smiled, it was so familiar, the tears that Wendy had held in for so long finally fell.

Wordlessly, he took Wendy in his arms. She cried, and he let her. She body shook violently, but he let the tears flow. She lingered there, inhaling the scent of him. He smelled like home to her. His arms were strong and steady as they held her. They rocked back and forth for a moment, reveling in each other's embrace.

"Wendy," Nero's voice echoed down the hallway. Wendy broke her hold and pulled the man into the house. She quietly shut the door behind them. They just stood for a moment, not knowing what to say.

"Wendy, who's there?" Nero questioned once more. Wendy looked up at the boy she'd raised as her own. He looked so much like his father. _Jax. _

"Just our son," Wendy whispered with a smile, "Our Thomas has come home."


	2. Chapter 2

"The future Dr. Knowles-Teller," Nero's voice was full of tears and reverence. Thomas stifled a gasp as he laid eyes on the man he called _Pop_. Gone was the thickly muscled, finely chiseled man Thomas grew up loving. In his place was a caramel colored bag of bones. Still, when he smiled, it was as if the old _vato _had returned. It took everything Nero had to lift his arms, to extend them and request a silent embrace.

Thomas felt five years old again. Without a word, he spanned the room and sat next to the only father he'd ever known. Nero pulled him into his arms. Thomas felt solid and heavy within his grasp. Tears flowed freely down their cheeks. Neither one bothered to wipe them away. They just hovered a moment, suspended somewhere between life and death, between the past and the present.

Wendy watched them. If she squinted her eyes hard enough, she could pretend it was Jax holding his son. _That's how it should have been. _She sighed. Even though she knew Thomas got the best damned substitute possible in Nero, she felt a son should never grow up without his sadness that dwelled within her chest wasn't for a lost love. There was no burning torch in her heart for Jax Teller. None at all. That died the day he did.

With Nero's story, she knew the Jax Teller she'd fallen in love with all those years ago was long gone. When Jax lost his wife, his moral compass was gone. In the moments following those bloody two days and Jax's subsequent death, Wendy knew there wasn't a soul left within the man she once loved. His death brought with it some peace. The real Jackson Nathaniel Teller died when his beautiful, tragic, tainted soul lost the one person he loved most. Wendy knew that now. Laying him to rest next to his true love had been the easiest thing she had ever done. It's where he belonged.

_Tara._ _He is with Tara. His soul mate. His everything. _The thought used to anger her. Now that she had Nero, knew the love a man was capable of giving, it brought her great comfort to know their souls lingered together somewhere. Besides, something had to give in the battle to get the boys away from the Sons. There had to be compromise somewhere, and Wendy knew Jax's sacrifice was her gain. She'd done the best she could, and staring at Thomas and Nero, and she knew she got something right.

"How you doing, Pop?" Thomas had a deep gravel in his baritone that still startled Wendy. Every time he spoke, she heard Jax talking. It was the same inflection, the same unintentional cocky tone, but other than the obvious physical similarities between father and son, Thomas was nothing like him. At twenty-six years old, he was already deeply immersed in the medical world, just like his mother before him. He'd graduated from her alma mater, the University of California at San Diego, with honors, just like she had. He was just one semester away from finishing medical school at Columbia, and soon, he'd be on his way to a residency at Duke University Hospital in North Carolina. He'd already been accepted into their cardiology program. Wendy still beamed with pride when she thought of that. _Tara, I didn't let you down. Your son is one amazing man._

"I've seen better days, mano," Nero honestly replied. Thomas nodded. He saw the signs of impending death: the mottled hands and forearms, the blue lips, the black circles under his eyes. His prominent cheekbones, once regal and stunning, were now sharp edges jutting out of an exhausted, worn face. Resignation filled Thomas. Nero wasn't far from his last breath. From what he could tell, it would be a day or two, at best. He wondered if Wendy realized it. He gazed over at her. Thomas saw the edge of denial in her eyes, and he knew that Wendy hadn't even begun to fully process Nero's passing.

"You tired, Nero?" Wendy asked. The old man nodded. He couldn't form the word _yes._ His eyes were closing before he could say anything more. He could feel himself slipping down a slippery precipice towards the end. He felt Wendy and Thomas help him to lying position.

"He's like this more and more, Tommy," he heard his wife say. The sorrow was palpable.

"He has a day or two, Mom." Thomas' throat was full of agony. Nero could hear him fighting tears. He wanted so badly to comfort the young man, to tell him he would be fine, to tell him not to worry. But Nero knew it wasn't fear or worry that caused his young son to hurt so. There were no words. Nero couldn't make a sound. All he could do was sleep.

"Let's go in the kitchen," Thomas said to Wendy as she covered Nero with another light quilt. She nodded as Thomas walked out. Her eyes lingered on Nero. He was, quite arguably, the love of her life. There was true happiness in her life because of him. She knew what it was to be valued as a woman, as a human. Jax Teller never gave her that. No one had ever given her that. _Except Nero. _She was going to miss him, and it was just now beginning to dawn on her how much pain was going to be involved. If there was a Heaven, Wendy felt like it'd been in their home, with him. Without her man by her side, nothing was going to be the same. She left the room, silently closing the door behind her.

Wendy could smell the delicious smell of dark roast coffee as she walked into the kitchen. Thomas was there, grabbing two cups out of the cupboard. She made quick work of grabbing caramel flavored creamer and sugar. She needed some sweet with the coffee, or it just didn't work. Thomas poured the two cups and sat them on the small kitchen table meant for two. Thomas felt his heart rip apart a little at the thought of Wendy sitting there alone.

"How's school, Tommy? Your teachers understand what's going on here?" Wendy's voice was tight as she began to sip at her coffee. Thomas nodded.  
>"They do, to a point," he answered. "I can't linger here in Norco for very long, but Pop's timing…as far as school is concerned…is a blessing. Christmas break gives me more time than I would have had otherwise. If things get crazy here, I can always take the spring off to help, and I will."<p>

Wendy let the words sink into her. _And I will._ There was no argument. If she needed Thomas, he'd stay, without her even having to ask. He'd stay against every objection she'd throw at him. He had Tara's stubbornness and tenacity. Even as a kid, if Thomas had a goal, he attained it. Nothing ever stood in his way. Wendy was simply thankful that his goals were good ones.

"I'll be fine," she said with a forced smile. Thomas didn't buy it.

"Does Abel know about Pop?" Wendy exhaled like she'd been punched. There was no segueway with this kid. He just went straight for the gut punch. Abel left Norco at twenty-one. He'd be twenty-nine on his next birthday. For Wendy, the connection with Abel was always a tenuous one; he was always so full of anger that it made him difficult to deal with. He was Jackson's spitting image with his blonde hair and blue eyes, so even when they did get along, the memories his face brought were sometimes just too much, especially when he could turn soulless without missing a beat. He was beautiful and dangerous, just like his father. It scared both Wendy and Nero to death.

"He came for Thanksgiving. Saw Nero. Ate with us. Then he went back to wherever he came from. I've tried calling, but you know Abel, when he goes off the grid, he is nowhere to be found. Jax was like that too." Thomas bristled at his the sound of his biological father's name. It never failed. Wendy could talk about Tara all day long, and Thomas would intently listen, but the words _Jackson Teller_ caused a noticeable physical reaction in him. Sometimes even Thomas didn't understand it. Wendy couldn't help but remember Nero's words to her the day they arrived at the ranch. Twenty-five years had run from her so fast. It still messed with her mind that she'd been gone from Charming for two and a half decades.

The boys were so small then. Thomas wasn't even two, and Abel had just started school. She remembered Thomas toddling in the grass, his then-platinum hair glittering in the late afternoon sunshine. Abel sat next to him and dug in the dark, rich earth. They'd been there just a few minutes, and both boys were filthy. She smiled. She liked them that way.

She and Nero sat on the front of the farmhouse's wraparound porch, side-by-side on the old white swing. They hadn't even unpacked the car yet. The boys wanted the freedom to explore their new surroundings, and Wendy wanted that for them. They hadn't been in kids in so long. They needed some dirt in their lives. She listened while they played.

She listened while Nero outlined all that Jax had kept from her: The dead Chinese that, for once, didn't really deserve to die. The lies told to hide the biggest lie of all. Nero told her the truth about Gemma Teller-Morrow; she brutally murdered Tara Knowles, and because of that one lie, hundreds of bodies piled up, and an endless bloodletting of both the innocent and the tainted occurred, because of her. Wendy's gasp didn't attract the boys' attention, neither did her scalding hot tears. She watched the boys at play. Abel grinned like a little boy was supposed to, like he hadn't grinned in ages. Thomas let out a peel of laughter that made Wendy smile through her sickened astonishment.

"Bobby died because of her. All those men…and…and…" Wendy's mind failed her. "What is Jax doing now? Is that why we're here? Is that why you brought the boys and me to Norco? To keep us safe?" Nero nodded. "What is he going to do, Nero?" An edge of panic laced Wendy's voice.

Nero grasped her hand tightly. Tears fell down his cheeks. Wendy's arms were covered with goosebumps as she laced her fingers through his. The weight of Charming had crashed and burned on Nero's shoulders. Now, together, they ran with the heirs of SAMCRO; they ran far from the flames.

"It's already been done, Wendy. You led Jax to Gemma." Wendy's heart froze. She stared into the distance. She could see the boys playing and moving, but she couldn't acknowledge them. She was floored. Of course, she had no idea, but her phone call to Jax led to what she knew was inevitable. Nero didn't have to say it. She knew Gemma was gone.

"What happened Nero? Did he kill her?" Nero nodded. Wendy still clung to him. She couldn't let his hand go now. They were in this journey together.  
>"Jax found her at his grandfather's house. She was there with Unser." Mascara rivers fell down her face while explained how he'd told Unser to go find Gemma. They cried together as they both realized Unser's death was another useless tragedy. "Jax is already carrying out the rest of his plan. He plans on <em>leaving<em> tonight, when everything is all done."

"He isn't leaving," Wendy said. The words fell on the porch like ice cold raindrops. Nero knew she was right. Jax would never leave his boys behind. The only thing that would tear him away from Abel and Thomas was death.

"Ma, did you hear anything I said?" Thomas broke Wendy from her reverie. It took her a moment to see Thomas as a man. The boy was long gone, and the man that sat before her was all that remained. _But what a good man he is._

"No, Tommy, I didn't. I was just staring at you, and my memories got the best of me."

Thomas grinned and sipped his coffee. Then his eyes turned serious again.

"Did Abel tell you where he is?"

"No, he won't tell us where he's staying. I just know it's close enough to get here for holidays and birthdays and such. It's close enough to come when he needs a fix of normalcy. But you know your brother has never been normal, Tommy. We both know that."

"So he has no idea what shape Nero is in?" he queried. Wendy shook her head in the negative. Thomas held his tongue. He knew exactly where Abel Teller was, but Wendy wasn't going to know it from him. Still, Abel needed to say goodbye. Nero needed to say goodbye, and Wendy needed to be there for it. Regardless of who or what Abel Teller was becoming, he needed to say goodbye to the man that helped save his life.

"Do you know something I don't, Thomas?" Wendy's eyes looked into the depths of her coffee cup. She didn't want to look him in the eyes. Something told she'd see a lie hidden there, and she couldn't handle that, not now.

"Nope. I haven't heard from Abel since before Thanksgiving, but I haven't tried to call, either. I didn't even know he was here with you and Pop. I was actually pretty shocked when I didn't see his bike. I thought he'd beat me here. I thought he knew what I knew. Maybe if I try to call, he'll pick up." Wendy nodded.

"I'll check on Nero," she said quietly. Almost as if on cue, she stood and left the room. Part of Thomas wondered if it was still habit from her days as an Old Lady. The movement was so subconscious, so ingrained into her, even now. Thomas fumbled in his pocket for his cell phone. Within seconds, he was dialing his older brother.

"Ah, the good doctor finally decides to call," Abel Teller's voice rang in his brother's ear. Thomas flushed in the wake of his brother's light teasing. Sometimes, his education embarrassed him. Abel joked that he could fix anything on two wheels, and his brother could fix anything on two legs, but Thomas knew he was right. He was the refined brother, and Abel was the brute.

"It'd be nice if I could see your face, asshole," Thomas teased back.

"New York ain't my style, Brother. You know that. I like my days sunny and my towns friendly. Your big city has none of that."

"Yeah, I hear Charming is just overflowing with hospitality these days." Thomas fired back. It was a raw nerve between the brothers. Thomas was pissed that he was there. For all the hatred towards Jax, Thomas had no problem following his dying wishes: _Keep the boys out of Charming. And make sure they hate me. _At least one of them listened. Thomas had yet to set foot in Charming, and he hated Jax Teller with every fiber of his , however, had never been a good listener. Slowly and steadily, he had been rebuilding the Teller name in the town they'd fled all those years ago. The last five years of his life had been spent learning the parts of SAMCRO Wendy and Nero never explained.

At first, it was only occasional visits. _Visits of curiosity_, Abel had said. They began when Thomas ventured off to San Diego. Abel hungered to know of the life they'd left behind. He remembered more of the life than Thomas did. After all, Abel had memories. He remembered Jax and Gemma and Unser. He even remembered Tara. Thomas had none of those connections, none of those memories. He could see why his older brother ached for the small little town.  
>Then the visits turned into long stays, and those turned into being a full-time Charming resident. Abel moved into a tiny one bedroom house around the same time Nero's cancer diagnosis came to light. For the last six months, Abel was fully ensconced in Charming life and Charming stories, and most of those were full of SAMCRO nostalgia. Thomas hated it, but Abel was a grown man, as was he, and the life of a grown man was all about choices.<p>

"It's not that bad, Tommy. You should really think about coming here." Thomas looked at his feet. He shuffled them when he got nervous, and talk of Charming made him nervous.

"You should come here, Abel. I'm home." The words fell quietly from Thomas' mouth. "Pop isn't going to make it through the night. You need to say goodbye."  
>There was a long silence. Thomas could hear the low, ominous rumble of motorcycles through the phone, followed by feminine giggles.<p>

"Abel?" Thomas now said his beloved older brother's name through gritted teeth. "This shouldn't be a difficult fucking decision. Nero Padilla is going to die tonight. You need to be here."

"Why?" It was one word, but it lit a fire within Thomas. Sometimes, Abel was so focused on his own pain that he couldn't be bothered with the agony of others. It was a weakness. _We all have weaknesses_, Thomas thought.

"Because we'd be the property of the goddamned State of California without him, or dead, Abel. He wa…is… a damned good dad, and you know it. He deserves respect. You're all about respect, right?" Thomas heard a long exhale on the other end of the phone. He knew Abel hated when he was right, and Thomas was right.

"I'll leave in an hour, Brother." Thomas could hear the resignation in Abel's voice. Thomas knew Abel wanted to hate Wendy and Nero, but he couldn't. No matter what, Abel couldn't deny that they loved him. He couldn't deny that they saved him. It would have be so much easier if he could.

"Every minute counts, Brother." Thomas returned. He hung up the phone. Darkness had fallen on Norco. Thomas propped his long body against the edge of the sink. There was a small window that overlooked their backyard. It was in that yard that he and Abel chased fireflies. That yard held endless nights in old tents, playing and talking. They'd always been inseparable. Even now, Thomas knew that Abel would be true to his word and come home.

"Did you get him, Tommy?" Wendy's scared him. He jumped slightly at the sound of her voice. Thomas nodded. Abel was coming home too, even though he knew the homecoming would be short-lived. The only question Thomas had now was how long he was going to stay. Even now, the hustle of New York called his name, and he longed to leave. For every good Norco memory he had, he had bad SAMCRO mythology and Charming history to go with it. In his tiny Manhattan apartment was a small slice of Heaven. There was no double life, no need to explain. There were no whispers behind his back. Thomas Knowles-Teller wasn't outlaw royalty there. He was just a man.

"Yeah, Ma. Abel is coming. He's leaving soon. I think we've got time." _Time._ It seemed so microscopic and so infinite, all at once. His entire life was just starting, while Nero's was coming to an end. Another part of what made the Teller boys who they were would be gone soon. _Just like everyone else. _Thomas was so goddamned tired of goodbyes, but he knew this wouldn't be the last. By the time the sun rose over Norco tomorrow, the only father he'd ever known would be gone. The words _Nero Padilla_ would be nothing more than another name to add to the long list of dead souls to pray for.


	3. Chapter 3

Norco was beautiful at night. Abel Teller admired the darkened landscape as his Harley skimmed the curves of the road. It felt good to be bathed in blackness; there was no dim orange glow of street lights, no sounds to distract. It was just the Harley, the road, and him. He'd never felt more at peace than he did on that bike. Riding was the best form of turned down the road to Wendy and Nero's. He'd never really called it home. It always seemed like a place to crash, a place to land when he needed one, but there was very little there that felt right. Thomas had never known any other home, so he thrived in Norco. Abel always felt out of his element there.

It wasn't like that in Charming. In Charming, everything felt right. He remembered the feeling he got his first day back. It was like he'd never left. Even though he'd been barely old enough to read when he left, he still knew some of the old roads. Not much had really changed in the couple of decades he'd spent away. The small town feeling still lingered. Some things never changed, and Charming seemed to be one of those things.

At first, nostalgia and sheer curiosity had drawn Abel to his birthplace. He'd heard Wendy and Nero talk of it many times. Sometimes, they both sounded wistful, and other times, both sounded on the verge of tears. Abel just wanted to see where he was born. He wanted to remember. He wanted to feel like a Teller, not a Case or a Padilla. More than anything, he wanted to know his father. The Jackson Nathaniel Teller Abel knew was nothing more than a horrible story. Wendy and Nero had seen to that.

He shuddered as a cool night breeze cut through him. He wasn't used to riding with the protection of his leather kutte, but tonight was not the night to wear it. Tonight wasn't the time to tell his mother that he'd found SAMCRO, and it certainly wasn't the night to tell her he was their newest prospect. It had taken him almost eight years to get to this point, and he wasn't going to stop now, Wendy be damned.

Abel ignored the dust as he made his way up the long gravel driveway to the house. It should have been paved long ago, but Nero refused. He said it took away from the beauty of the land. Abel drove slowly, carefully. All it would take was a little too much throttle, and the bike would slip and slide out from underneath him. Each bump threatened to bust his tires, and he shook his head. He should have driven the Chevy. The old pickup truck was a beast, and it was far better on the driveway than the Harley.

The bike's engine hummed low as Abel slowed. He parked the bike next to a silver Honda. He cut off the engine and slung hishelmet over the handlebars. _Thomas must have rented a car._ Abel grinned broadly. _Practical, affordable, normal. Just like Tommy. _As much as it was going to hurt to say goodbye to Nero, he was excited to see his little brother. It'd been almost a year since he'd seen him last. New York and medical school kept Thomas extremely busy, but Abel was proud of the man his brother was becoming.

The boards creaked beneath his feet as he made his way up the steps to the porch. It had seen better days. Nero tried to repaint it every couple years, but the cancer had made it impossible to do it this year. Abel could see the chips in the eggshell white paint. After the funeral, he'd try to stick around and get a fresh coat of paint on. _After the funeral_. The words stuck in his throat. He couldn't believe he was here to say goodbye. Nero always seemed invincible. Maybe it was Abel being naïve, but he never thought Nero would die.

He didn't bother knocking or ringing the bell. He walked in quietly, shutting the heavy door behind him. He didn't need much light; his feet knew exactly where to go. A small light shimmered at the end of the hallway. _Nero and Wendy's room_. He walked down the wide hallway, and as he rounded the corner into the room his parents shared. Nero's eyes were closed. Abel paid close attention to the old man's chest. At first, it didn't appear to move. It seemed like an eternity before it moved in a syncopated rhythm. Abel breathed a sigh of relief. _I'm not too late. _There was a small stool next to Nero's side of the bed. Abel took it and sat down. He looked at the clock. _9:57. _It was still early. He was amazed that he was the only one awake.

Thomas sat in Nero's recliner in the corner. He slept peacefully. His fair skin was flushed, and his black lashes laced his cheeks. His lips were pursed, and Abel was hit suddenly with childhood memories. _He still looks like a baby. _Thomas looked younger than his twenty-seven years.

Abel turned his attention to his mother. Wendy lay on the bed next to Nero. She was curled around Nero. Her head rested on his shoulder, and her arm was protectively draped over his chest. She too was asleep. Abel marveled at the only family he'd ever known. They looked like they belonged together. Abel was the odd one out; he'd always had been.

"Ah, mano, you made it home," Nero's voice crackled in the silence. Abel turned his eyes to the man who raised him. Nero had grown significantly thinner since Thanksgiving. Christmas was still a week away. The older man gave a wan smile and reached out for Abel's hand.

"I wouldn't miss this, Nero. You know that." Nero nodded. Abel felt the chill of Nero's skin. He watched as Nero struggled to breathe, and he clenched his jaw. _Do not cry. Do not fucking cry._

"God, you look like Jax. You're his twin." Tears filled Abel's eyes. He inhaled deeply.

"Nero, I…"

"Let me speak, Abel. I don't have much time." Abel swallowed heavily. He nodded, a silent request to continue. Nero's fingers intertwined with Abel's.

"I know what you're doing," Nero whispered, "I know you're back with SAMCRO." Abel's heart pounded within his chest. His hands turned clammy. He bit his lip.

"How do you…?" Nero held up his other hand.

"It doesn't matter how I know. Your father wanted you as far away from that life as possible. That's why we came to Norco. That's why we've drilled Jax Teller's murderous past into your head. I thought that, somehow, your mother and I would defy your genetics, would defy your legacy. Now I know that I can't." Abel held his breath as Nero gripped his hand.

"You're making a mistake, Abel. But you are a grown man, just like your father was, just like his father was before him. You are SAMCRO. It's not just your father's blood that runs in you, it's Gemma's. It's John Teller's too, and I know that isn't easy to ignore. I think your mother and I were fools for trying, but it was Jackson's wish that you hate him, not mine." Tears rolled down Abel's cheeks.

"Dad wanted me to hate him? Why?" It didn't make sense.

"SAMCRO stripped him of everything, including a concrete sense of right and wrong. It stripped him first of his father, then of Tara…then…of Gemma…and eventually, of himself. You and Tommy had to grow up without him, and you have no idea how I would go back if I could." Abel looked around the room. Wendy and Thomas slept on.

"He wanted you to hate him, so you didn't become him. He wanted you to have a chance. He wanted better for you…for Thomas…for Wendy…and even for me. He sacrificed himself for us."

"You've always told me he was a murderer. That he was a ruthless killer, a criminal. He fucked lives up. He ended lives too. How is a man like that capable of sacrifice?" It was now Nero's turn to cry.

"Oh Abel, the killing wasn't who your father was. Deep down, he was a good man. A damned good man. He tried to honor you. He tried to honor Tara. He tried to honor everyone, but in the world of SAMCRO, it was an impossible task. He killed because he'd been conditioned to. In SAMCRO, especially then, it was kill or be killed. As much as I hated making you hate him, I knew that's what he wanted. It was his last wish for you and your brother. So your mom and I tried to make Jax Teller the bad guy, but now I realize it doesn't matter. The pull to SAMCRO is stronger than your mom and me. You're going to do what you feel is right." Abel nodded.

"And this is right, Nero. SAMCRO feels better than everything I have ever known." Nero shook his head. He tried to fight the sobs that threatened to wage war on his tired lungs.

"I don't know who let you in, Abel, but you better thank God I am dying. If I knew, I'd kill them myself." Resignation filled Abel's eyes. If there was one thing he hated, it was upsetting Nero.

"I'm sorry I made you hate me, Nero." Abel's eyes ached. Nero looked at the ghost of Jax Teller. The ghost rested within his son. Nero squeezed Abel's hand once more.

"Oh, mano, I don't hate you. I love you. I have loved you ever since your family walked into my life. Do you not see that? I love you, no matter what choices you make. I have done what I can for you, but if you feel SAMCRO is your family, I can't deny you that, especially now."

"I feel like it's my destiny to be with them, you know?" Abel's voice cracked a little with the last word. He looked down at his feet.

"I know that feeling, mano. It was the same feeling I got when I met your grandmother. I was linked to SAMCRO before I knew what hit me." Abel looked up into Nero's eyes. Love and compassion flowed from them, and Abel was overwhelmed with a strange sense of peace.

"I love you, Abel. You do know that, right?" Abel nodded once more.

"I love you, Nero. Thank you."

"Thank you for what, Abel?"

"For everything, Nero. For everything." Nero squeezed Abel's hand once more. Exhausted, he closed his eyes, and within minutes, he was unconscious. Abel placed Nero's hand on the bed. Abel buried his head in his hands. For a moment, a deluge of sobs and tears threatened to break free, but he swallowed them.  
>Abel didn't sleep. He watched as his family rested, oblivious to the conversation that had just transpired. As Nero retreated further from the mortal world, Abel held vigil. There were moments that Nero's chest would rattle, and Abel would think it was the end, then he would return to breathing again.<p>

The sun began to rise over Norco, and rainbow light trickled through Wendy's stained glass windows. The room was warm, and Abel felt his eyelids get heavy. As sleep made its way to the Prince of SAMCRO, Nero Padilla opened his eyes. He glanced at each member of the family. Each one of them dreamt on, caught in sweet and peaceful worlds. He could feel Wendy curled next to him. Her position hadn't changed all night. Her breath was warm against his neck. The boys were grown and strong. Thomas would be a doctor soon, and Abel would find his way. Even he became President of SAMCRO, he'd learn from his father's mistakes. Nero had faith in his family. He felt at peace with his life and what he accomplished. A satisfied smile crept across his face as he closed his eyes once more.

"Papi, is that you?" Nero blinked. Before him stood a little boy, no more than twelve. He stood tall and strong. On one hand, he sported a baseball glove. The other hand held a baseball. Nero gasped.

"Lucius?" Nero's heart pounded against his chest. His mouth went dry. Tears of joy streamed down his face. _Lucius. _His boy was walking. There was no illness, no disease. The wheelchair was gone.

The boy casually threw the ball up in the air, laughing as he did so. Nero ran forward and grabbed him. The boy embraced his father, and Nero closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. _My boy is better. My boy is whole._

"I'm glad you finally made it, Papi. We've been waiting for you." Nero opened his eyes. Just over Lucius' shoulder, stood a man and a woman. At first, Nero had trouble recognizing them. He sat Lucius down, and the boy grabbed his hand.

"C'mon Papi, they're ready for you," Lucius said happily. Without hesitation, Lucius moved towards the couple. As they neared, Nero's heart jumped.  
>"They've been my mommy and daddy since I came here. They said they owed you."<p>

"Welcome home, Nero." The voice sent chills up his spine. It had been so long since he'd heard it, but it hadn't changed at all. He looked down at the beautiful woman. She smiled up at him. It was most stunning thing he'd ever seen.

"Tara?" Nero turned to the man by her side. "Jax?"

Jackson Teller grabbed his old friend and held him tight. Nero wept in his arms. Tara stood next to them, a protective, motherly hand on Lucius' shoulder. A gorgeous light bathed them all, and Nero couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"We missed you brother, especially this little guy," Jax said, nodding towards Lucius. Lucius smiled broadly.

"God, I missed you too. Thank you for looking after him for me," Nero breathed. He took Lucius' hand. Jax grabbed Tara's hand. Together, they walked into the gorgeous light.

"It was the least we could do, brother," Jax said quietly. He met Nero's eyes. Nero reached out and grabbed his old friend's shoulder, and only one thought crossed his mind as he left Earth behind.

_Damn, it's so good to be home. _


	4. Chapter 4

"Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust."

Wendy inhaled deeply as Father Antonio made the sign of the cross. _He's really gone._ The reality of it hit her hard. She understood the end had been near. She understood the sadness that came along with, but what she didn't understand was the agony that rested in her chest. She didn't understand why she had to stay behind. She wanted to crawl in the mahogany coffin. She wanted to lay with him forever.

The sun was blinding. Wendy's eyes were hidden behind sunglasses, and for that, she was grateful. Her tears were well hidden. A strange jumble of emotions flooded her; she wanted to scream and claw at the godforsaken box that held her husband. She wanted to run as far away as she could from reality, and for the first time in decades, she craved a needle in her arm. Her fingers twitched with longing.

_Heroin hands._ Abel watched the strange movement of his mother's hands. He'd seen them in the Croweaters that hung around the clubhouse. It was as obvious as the track marks on their arms. Wendy had the odd fumble, the rapid tapping. Worry seeped into Abel's psyche, and his jaw clenched. He knew how he came into the world. The scar on his chest was a constant reminder of his mother's junkie history, and it hurt like hell to see her crave the one thing that almost destroyed them both.

Abel didn't speak. He simply grabbed his mother's hand and held tight. Wendy needed Nero. She needed his comfort, his stoic optimism. She needed to feel his arms embracing her, just one last time. What she got was Abel's hand holding hers. It was almost as good. She ran her thumb over his knuckles, a silent _thank you_ to her son. She was so grateful he was there.

"Please stand," the priest directed. Thomas felt the breath leave his body. _It was time_. Tears welled up in his eyes. Like Wendy, his eyes were covered by sunglasses, and like Wendy, he was thankful for them. He didn't want to cry in front of her, in front of Abel. This moment was so fucked up, so foreign. He was barely a toddler when Jax Teller was buried. He hadn't been to another funeral since.

_Until now_. Thomas was grateful for the lack of memories. He didn't want to recall that kind of sadness. He didn't want to relive his biological father's demise. A living hell waged within his soul as he began his internal goodbyes. Tears fell past the glasses and dripped off his chin. He didn't bother wiping them away. He didn't care who saw his tears. Gone was the man that told him bedtime stories. Gone was the man that told him about girls. The man that taught him to ride a bike, work on cars, and take a punch had vanished from his life. _Pop is gone_. Thomas bent and grabbed a handful of dirt.

Abel followed his younger brother's lead. The soil felt cold and moist between his fingers.

"It's okay Abel," Wendy's voice rang in his ears. Suddenly, Abel was caught in the past, in his five year old body. Recollections assailed him, and he let it happen. Without a word, he looked up at her, unsure of how to feel. Thomas was in her arms. The skirt of her long black dress blew in the warm afternoon breeze. It tickled Abel's arms. The dirt was in his hand, and some of it scattered as the breeze picked up. Below him, Jackson Teller's silver coffin lay in the ground. It was covered in splatters of red, white, pink, and yellow roses.

Abel couldn't move. He watched as one by one, the surviving members of SAMCRO threw clods of dirt onto his father's casket. He clutched his chuck of rocks and soil as each man had their turn. He tightened his grip as tears threatened to fall. Not one man, not Tig, not Happy, not even Chibs, cried. They stood together, side-by-side, a leather clad wall of stone, and they looked at Abel.

He could feel Wendy's hand on his head. Nero stood just beyond them. He was propped against a willow tree, clad in all black.

"Go ahead, laddie. It's alright." Chibs' brogue crackled to life. Abel heard the hollow ache in his words. That was the moment Abel knew his life was changing. He knew nothing would ever be the same. He knew that his father was gone, and he knew that Wendy and Nero had every intention of being gone too. Slowly, Abel neared the grave. _This is my only chance. _The wind stopped blowing, and everything went still. There was no sound at all. No birds chirped. No cars passed. No one spoke. No one even dared to breathe as the heir to SAMCRO looked at his father's resting place.

The dirt fell from his hand and landed with a thud on Jax's pall. He could hear soft sobs. They were coming from Wendy's throat. He looked down. The coffin glimmered in the fading sunlight. The wind picked up again, and the roses moved slightly.

"Goodbye Daddy," Abel whispered. His eyes were dry as he looked up at SAMCRO. Chibs met his gaze. Speechless, his eyes were soaked with unshed tears. Wendy rubbed the top of his head.

"Let's go honey," Wendy's voice was raw. "Let's go home."

Wendy squeezed his hand. Abel exhaled and blinked. Reality set in. _This isn't the same funeral._ He'd been so lost in remembrance, it had really felt like he was little again. It took a moment for him to register that he was a man, a man that stood between to his ex-junkie mother and his younger brother. Both were completely broken in the face of Nero's demise; one subconsciously begged for a long overdue fix, while the other wanted to be as far away from Norco as possible.  
>Abel grabbed the dirt and threw it onto Nero's final resting place. Thomas followed. Wendy was the last one to go. She trembled as her long, manicured nails dug into the earth. Wordlessly, she chucked the clod onto the coffin as the priest uttered a prayer in Latin. Her knees threatened to buckle beneath her, but she stood strong. Both Abel and Thomas steadied her as they left St. Francis cemetery. Friends of both Nero and Wendy's scattered as the small, broken family made their way to her car.<p>

A shadow of black leather caught Thomas' eye. A tall man, much older than he, leaned against a tall gravestone. His salt and pepper hair was on the longer side, and his goatee looked like it'd seen better days. Clad in dark jeans, a black short-sleeved button up and a thick leather vest, the man didn't take his eyes off them.  
>"Who's that? Do you know him, Mom?" Thomas' stomach flip-flopped as both Wendy and Abel turned to look. Abel's mouth broke into a genuine, heartfelt smile, but when Wendy met the man's gaze, Abel's grin all but disappeared.<p>

"Oh my…oh my God." Wendy's voice was barely a whimper as she broke from her sons and made her way towards the mysterious man. Thomas couldn't comprehend a thing. His brain, stressed from the goodbyes and the heartache, had turned to mush.

"Abel, who is that?" Thomas watched incredulously as his mother embraced the man. It was like they'd known each other forever. Abel dug in his pocket and grabbed a pack of Marlboros. He pulled one out of the pack and placed it between his teeth. He used an old Zippo to light it. The deep intake of toxic fumes felt good.

"Come find out," Abel stated. He began walking towards them. Thomas followed. Wendy now stood apart from the man, but there was a smile that lingered on her lips.

"Chibs," Abel said softly, "I'm glad you came."

"Aye," Chibs returned. Wendy looked back and forth between them. Thomas stood on the edge of the fray, unsure of what to say. Abel took a final drag off the half-smoked cigarette and threw it onto the road.

Chibs Telford felt old. He stood by Wendy and studied the younger man. _Jackie boy, that Abel is all you. _His attention turned to the taller, thinner dark haired man by Abel's side. Dressed in black slacks and a gray button up shirt, the young man removed his glasses and met Chibs' gaze. The hazel eyes brought back memories that threatened to engulf him. _Tara. Good God, Tara. You're staring right back at me. _

"You must be Thomas," Chibs said slowly. He extended his hand. Thomas took it without hesitation. The handshake was strong and firm, just like Chibs expected it to be. Thomas looked at him with curiosity. He tried to place the face, the accent, something, but he was coming up with nothing.

"Thomas Knowles-Teller, yes." Chibs whistled through his teeth. That name spoke volumes. Chibs throat constricted as Thomas' mother seemed to leap out from her son's eyes, hair, and smile.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Chibs murmured. He couldn't take his eyes off the Teller boys. Ghosts dwelled in Chibs' soul, ghosts that he didn't bother speaking of. It was bad enough that Abel had found a way back into Charming, back into SAMCRO. With Abel, it was like having Jax again. They looked the same, sounded the same. Chibs had grown accustomed to the pain of losing their father, but seeing Abel made him realize how missed the elder Teller was.

Thomas was a completely different entity. The younger Teller was more Knowles than anything, and Chibs could see it in his face: the quiet, reflective eyes, the pensive mouth, the solemn soul, those were all his mother. The guilt of her death killed him more than their father's did. It was her death that set everything into motion. Her death could have been prevented, and if it had, both she and Jax would still be alive. Chibs always felt like he could have done something to change that day, but no matter how many nights of sleep he missed, no matter how much time passed, nothing changed. Jax and Tara were gone, and now Nero was too.

"How did you know?" Wendy questioned. She removed her glasses. Chibs noted how little she'd changed. The years had been good to her.

"I told him, Wendy," Abel stated. A look of disbelief etched her face. _I should have known._ It made sense now. The distance Abel had during Nero's illness, the lack of communication, the missed phone calls. _Fucking SAMCRO._ _Goddamned fucking SAMCRO._

"You fucking promised Chibs." Wendy was beginning to break. She pressed an exasperated hand on her forehead. "Nero told me. Jax made you fucking _promise._ No SAMCRO. He loved Abel and Thomas more than anything; that's why he sacrificed himself. SAMCRO broke him down and fucked him up so bad, and he didn't want that for his boys. You know that. He wanted his sons to hate him. "

Thomas froze. This was the first he'd heard of this. _That's why he sacrificed himself_. By all accounts he'd ever known, Jax was a thug, a liar, a murderer. There was nothing sacrificing in the stories he'd heard, nothing at all. It'd been well established what Jax was. He'd heard the whispers behind his back. He knew some people considered him tainted because of his bloodline. Others took pity on him and Abel, felt sorry for them. Thomas learned a young age that he preferred the gossip and the predetermined hate more than the pity.

"Do you know how long it took me to get there, Wendy?" Abel said calmly. He crossed towards his mother, but she backed away. Every fear she had materialized. She thought the life she'd built with Nero, Abel, and Thomas was good. She thought they'd broken the curse of SAMCRO. She thought she'd adhered to Jax's wishes. Somehow, the reaper that stalked both JT and Jax now stalked her son.

"I don't give a goddamn how long it took you to get there, Abel," Wendy spit. "You'll get the fuck out. Now." Wendy's eyes were on fire. Thomas winced as Abel laughed. It was a harsh, hard sound.

"I am almost thirty, _Wendy_." Disdain dripped from Abel's words. "I think the time for demands has long passed." Wendy began to cry. _This is too much,_ she thought. _This is too fucking much today. Goddamn it, Nero. Why did you leave me? _Her fingers ached. Her throat was dry. Cravings grew stronger.

"Are you patched in yet?" It was a rapid-fire question. Abel didn't bother answering.

"Look Wendy, I dinna come here to cause problems," Chibs said slowly. "I came out of respect. To Nero. To you. For everythin' you've done for these boys."  
>"If you had any respect for me, you'd give my son back. You wouldn't take him into SAMCRO. You know just as well as I do what that brings. Did you forget everything, Chibs? Did you?"<p>

"Wendy, I haven't…"

"JT. Donna. Piney." Each name fell like gunshot from Wendy's lips.

"Opie. Bobby. Otto. Juice. Clay." Her eyes didn't waiver from Chibs'. She was fully intent on proving her point. Thomas didn't really know who these people were, but it was obvious that they meant a great deal to both Chibs and Wendy.

"Unser. Gemma. Tara." _Tara. _His heart constricted at the mention of his mother's name. _Gemma. _ The grandmother Thomas had never known. Wendy didn't speak of her often, but when she did, it was never good.

"Jax." His name was the final painful blow. Rivers flowed down her cheeks. Each person's name was a knife in her heart. The pain was unbearable. The past threatened to kill her. She found Nero through SAMCRO. The memories they shared were SAMCRO. For so long, her life had been about SAMCRO, and now that she'd had time to separate herself from the pain of the past, she wasn't ready to revisit it. Abel felt horrible. He shouldn't have dredged up old ghosts.

"Wendy, c'mon." She had begun to walk away. She didn't turn back. "Mom." Abel said the word so softly, it barely registered in Thomas' brain. Wendy stopped walking and turned to face her son. It was the first time Abel had ever called her that. Her shock was plain. Thomas couldn't begin to comprehend why his brother picked now to say it, but he knew one thing: Abel wouldn't have said it unless he meant it. He walked towards her and grabbed her hand. She pulled away.

"Don't Abel. Don't." Her teeth were gritted as she said the words. "Don't you dare pull the Mom card now. Not today, goddamnit." She turned and walked towards the car. Abel watched her fingers tap impatiently against her hip. _Junkie hands._

Abel bit his bottom lip and threw his hands up in exasperation. Logic told him to let her be. Fury told him to destroy her. Logic barely won out.

"Now what do we do?" Thomas' head was spinning. _Dad wanted me to hate him. Wanted us to hate him. Why? _There was no rhyme or reason to it.

"You take her home," Chibs answered. He grabbed Abel by the hand and quickly embraced him.

"You coming?" Abel asked. He was only half-joking. Chibs shook his head in the negative.

"Nah, Abel, I'm heading back to Charming. I think I've caused Wendy enough distress today." Abel nodded. As they turned to leave, Chibs extended his hand to Thomas once more. Thomas took it.  
>The two men stared at each other for a moment. Chibs turned to walk away.<p>

"G'night Abel," Chibs said, his back to both men. "If ye need me, ye know where to find me."

"G'night." The sun sunk lower in the horizon. Long shadows draped over the dead. Abel began the trek across the graveyard towards the car.

Thomas stood alone for a moment, unsure of what was happening. He expected uncertainty. He expected grief. He didn't expect SAMCRO to show up. He didn't expect Abel to tell Wendy the truth about anything. He didn't expect what Chibs had said about Jax. He shook his head. He could feel the pull of Charming and SAMCRO on his soul. He couldn't explain why it was there, but he could feel it killing everything else.

As he walked to Abel and Wendy, her words kept playing over and over. _No SAMCRO. He wanted his sons to hate him. _Unanswered questions lingered in the air. As the magnetic pull of Charming sank into him, he knew he wouldn't be able to go back to New York. This was his last chance to run, the last chance to stop the madness that suddenly plagued him. He no longer wondered what to do next. The answer was crystal clear, with no other choice. He couldn't go back now. He had to stay.


	5. Chapter 5

"Thomas. Thomas, can you hear me?"

The voice was soft and familiar. Thomas groaned slightly in his sleep. His eyes fluttered, and he groaned once more, as his eyes ached against the blinding light.  
>"C'mon, honey, I need you to listen to me." The whisper was urgent and wonderful, all at the same time. Thomas knew the voice like he knew his heartbeat. His eyes opened, and he smiled. It was automatic when he saw her.<p>

"Mama." The word felt wonderful on his lips. Tara Knowles-Teller had never left her son. For as long as he could remember, whenever he needed guidance, or just a little push in the right direction, she came to his dreams. Although it didn't happen as often as he'd like, Thomas was grateful for her presence, and he never once questioned it, nor did he ever tell anybody else.

"Hey baby." His mother grinned. God, she was beautiful. Her hazel eyes gazed at him, and her long dark hair swirled around her shoulders. Dressed in blue flannel and old faded jeans, she looked far from the angel she was, but Thomas liked her that way. As a kid, he would have feared her had she been in a fancy white gown and angel wings. _A plain clothes angel_, Thomas thought. _I wouldn't expect anything less. _

"How's Abel?" Tara asked. She crossed her arms under her breasts. Concern etched her stunning features.

"He's doing alright, I guess. Nothing much going on there. He's been hanging around with me in Norco for the last couple of weeks. Wendy is still pissed that he's with SAMCRO. I don't know how they feel about him being gone, but it's been quiet."

Tara nodded. "Of course Wendy's pissed. I'm pissed. At both of you."

Thomas' eyebrows shot up.

"Yes, Tommy, you too. You knew what he was doing long before Wendy did, and you kept it quiet. Now, he's following the one thing your dad and I didn't want him doing. Why didn't you say something to her? To Nero? To anyone?"

"A brother doesn't rat, Mama. You of all people should know that." Tara gritted her teeth. Her son was sometimes more gangster than even he realized. As grateful as she was for Heaven, Tara had to admit a little Hell reigned as she watched her boys. She was rendered helpless. All she could do was watch as their lives went on their destined path. The problem was, Tara didn't know what destiny awaited either son. Only God knew that, and He wasn't spilling any details.

"I know the code, son. I know. I just don't want you living by that code. It killed me. It killed your father. It killed your whole family, Thomas. You have no idea…" Tears sprang into her eyes. Thomas reached out to touch her, but his hands fell through her. She was vapor. Unimaginable pain crossed both their faces. They mirrored one another. Her hazel eyes stared into his blue ones. He wondered if there would ever be a day he could feel his mother hug him. Abel could remember that feeling. Thomas couldn't.

"Mama, I love you." Thomas knew their time was short. He could feel consciousness slipping into his veins. He would be waking up soon. A sad smile played across her lips.

"I know, Tommy. I know. Just promise me you'll stay as safe as you can. Promise me that you'll do everything you can to stay out of SAMCRO's hands. Go back to New York. For the love of God, go back to New York. Soon."

"Mama, I have to…She, I mean, Mom," Thomas corrected himself, "I mean, Wendy…and Abel…they need me."

"Promise me, Thomas. Please." Tara was fading away. Thomas worried when he'd see her next.

"I'll do my best." No promises. Tara's soul lurched. _At least he's not like his father, making promises he couldn't keep. _

"I love you, Thomas. No matter what."

"I know that, Mama. I love you too."

Thomas sat straight up. Sunlight streamed through the windows. It had been a long, hard night, but then again, every night had been long and hard since Nero's death. Most nights, he would hear Wendy sobbing herself to sleep. She tried to hold it together, but the loss of her soulmate, combined with Abel's newly found SAMCRO ties, was a hard load to handle. The fact that Abel was sticking around encouraged Wendy, but Thomas knew his brother like no one else. Abel Teller was simply biding his time. He had no intentions of staying in Norco, nor did he have any intentions of leaving SAMCRO. He would patch in, and eventually, Thomas knew he would take his rightful place as the club's president.

Thomas buried his face in his hands. Last night was too much. His head pounded from a wicked hangover. His stomach turned over and over, and his throat tightened with the urge to vomit. He choked it down and swung his legs over the side of the bed. His feet touched the cool hardwood floor. Dressed only in boxers, he fumbled for his pants, which were puddled in a denim heap on the floor. He pulled them on and let them hang loose, with no belt on his lean hips. His waist was chiseled and firm, but Thomas, unlike Abel, tended to run skinny. His brother was thickly muscled and strong.

A knock on the door startled him. Without waiting for permission to enter, Abel barged in.

"You seen Wendy?" Abel's mouth was set in a firm line.

"Good morning to you too, Bro." Sarcasm dripped from his mouth. Abel didn't smile.

"Have you seen her, or not?" Abel's tone was harsh. There was no patience.

"I just woke up, Abel. I haven't seen shit." Thomas bent to grab last night's gray tee shirt.

He slid it on. He stared at his brother. Abel's blue eyes, identical eyes to Thomas', stared back at him. Thomas blinked when he saw something unfamiliar in those eyes. _Fear._

__"She probably went to the store, Abel. I'm sure she's fine." _Fine _was not the word to describe Wendy. She was the farthest thing possible from fine. She was a crying, broken mess. She barely ate, and she barely slept. She just drank cup after cup of coffee and smoked endless packs of cigarettes. There were no in depth conversations with Abel or with Thomas since the day of the funeral. Once she learned of Thomas knowing about Abel's affiliation with SAMCRO, she withdrew. Silence was the only thing that Wendy would give the Teller brothers. Still, she didn't push them out. As angry as Wendy was, she couldn't bear the thought of being alone.

"The Jeep is still here, Thomas." Wendy loved that Jeep. She loved driving it. Abel began to pace. Thomas' eyes narrowed. Abel was acting very strange. It was like he already knew the answer to the questions. The man Thomas watched walking back and forth was not the man he was out with the night before. The brothers had gone to _Jezebel's_, a rundown bar on the outskirts of Norco, the night prior. Wendy had locked herself in the bedroom, as she did every night, and for the last two weeks, Abel and Thomas had stayed within the confines of the house. Most of the time, they waxed nostalgic, but the constant quiet had found a way to grate through their nerves. Nostalgia needed a break, so they'd gone to the shithole dive bar in search of something new, something that could break the doldrums.  
>The bar was grimy and smoke-filled, as most small town bars were, but both men felt alive amidst the loud, drunken patrons. Pool tables were covered in pool sharks. Girls with too few clothes and too much makeup prowled slowly, looking for their prey. Thomas and Abel sidled up to the massive bartender. His long, curly dark hair, thick scraggily goatee, and kind brown eyes pulled at Abel's heartstrings. <em>He looks like Uncle Bobby. <em>

The brothers ordered shot after shot of tequila, and they downed them as quick as the bartender poured them. It took no time for Thomas and Abel to feel the effects.

"I'm sorry, Brother." Abel's words were sincere. Tommy's drunken mind swirled. Everything surrounding him was slow-motion. The bar crawling sluts eyeballed the gorgeous men as they talked. Some longed for just one night stands. Others wanted babies and proposals. Both Thomas and Abel were oblivious to the stares.

"I'm not mad at you, Abel. I get it. " They'd been talking of SAMCRO. Abel had explained what had drawn him back. "It's Wendy who's pissed." Abel nodded. He took another shot. Tonight would be a night in which he lost count. "But I thought Mom said Chibs promised to keep you out. From what I've heard of the old Scot, he's not one to be easily swayed.

"Chibs was hard as hell to move, Brother. He was. If circumstances weren't what they were, I'd be Nomad by now. I think what happened to Kerrianne and Fiona has taken its toll." Thomas wanted to laugh, but Abel's mood was far too serious. He loved when Abel just assumed he knew the characters within SAMCRO. Aside from Chibs, Thomas wouldn't know a single member from any other stranger on the street. He wanted to ask who Kerrianne and Fiona were and what exactly happened to them, but he knew that Abel would clam up. He knew Abel would eventually make it all make sense, but the older Teller son had to come clean in his own time. Thomas never rushed it.

"Chibs doesn't want out, but he certainly doesn't want to be _in_, either. He's done with the President patch. Considering he's damned near seventy, I can't say I blame him. He's the oldest member to ever sit as President of SAMCRO. JT and Dad and Clay never really had the chance to get old. Chibs was reluctant to let me in, but he couldn't say no. I'm the perfect storm of old ties and new blood, and it's the perfect time to come back."

The perfect storm now paced back and forth before Thomas. It was obvious there was something he wasn't speaking of. It was obvious Wendy was gone. It was also obvious that Thomas had no clue what happened.

"She's fucking gone, and it's my fault. We didn't even check in last night. If we did, we would've known she was gone. Who knows where the fuck she could be." The words were more to himself to than to Thomas.

"Wendy goes for walks on the property all the time, Abel," Thomas reminded him.

Abel paused and inhaled deeply. He reached into the depth of his pocket and pulled a small piece of paper. Thomas walked over to Abel and took the paper from his hand. The words, scrawled in what appeared to be blood, stared back at him.

_Welcome Home Abel. _

"Oh fuck." Thomas couldn't breathe. His heart raced as nausea crept up his throat.

"Yeah. Oh fuck." Abel's looked wild. It was the same look Thomas saw when they were kids. Abel's eyes would go wide and unblinking. The fury would pour from them before Abel destroyed everything around him. All hell would break loose. Every time.

"Who the fuck would do this?" Thomas was genuinely amazed. Abel was annoyed with the question. The thought of retaliation never crossed the younger Teller's mind, because he didn't remember the life Wendy once lived. He didn't remember their father or their grandmother. Spilled blood had once been a normal occurrence in the Teller family. It'd been twenty-five years since they'd been in the thick of danger, but judging by the crumpled note in Abel's hand, it didn't take long to acclimate to constant worry and fear. Thomas ran an impatient hand through his hair. Abel stood still. _I've brought this back. This is all my fault. _His throat ached with unused tears. He swallowed hard, preventing the deluge from falling down his cheeks.

"I don't know Thomas. I have to take this back to Charming. It has to go to SAMCRO. Chibs will be able to figure out what this means, and if he doesn't, then Tig or Happy can."

"When do we leave?" The next question tumbled out of Thomas' mouth before he even knew what he was asking. Abel looked incredulously at his brother as he smiled a strange, cold smile.

"_We _are not leaving, little brother. _I _am leaving. You're taking the next flight back to New York and doing what you do best: being normal." The sarcasm and the condescension dripped from Abel's lips. He knew he was being an asshole, but it was a necessary evil. Thomas couldn't follow him to Charming. Thomas wasn't meant for that life. Abel came from a gangster and an addict. His fate was sealed the moment he was born, but Thomas was on his way to being so much more than Charming. He was going to be a doctor, not some leather clad thug that raced the streets. It would break Wendy's heart for Thomas to help, and Abel had already done enough to Wendy for a lifetime.

Thomas clenched his teeth. He hated when Abel acted like this. As kids, Thomas always thought of Abel as a god, and there were still times he felt that way. Abel wasn't scared of anything; he could handle a beating, a lie, an unsavory life. Thomas thought he could too, if the need arose. He thought himself be no different than Abel, but since he was Tara's son and not Wendy's, everyone else's expectations were higher. Sometimes, he longed to defy those expectations, and not in a good way. He wanted people to fear him, and he wanted the respect that came with that kind of fear. It pissed him off that Abel just automatically assumed he'd go back to New York. It pissed him off that Abel thought _normal _was what Thomas did best. He returned Abel's laughter. It was a cold, bitter sound that Abel had never heard before.

"I'm not going anywhere, Abel." The words were simple. Abel stared at Thomas, his mouth agape. For once, Abel had to think a moment before speaking.

"Um, yes, you are." Abel's eyes narrowed as he spoke. Thomas leaned more on one leg than the other. His long, lean arms were crossed across his chest. His eyes stared back with defiance. "It's too dangerous for you, Thomas. I don't want you getting hurt." Thomas inhaled as if he'd been hit.

"Really, Abel? How fucking old am I?" Thomas' fury was apparent.

"You have no idea what you're up against, little brother."

"Yeah, well that makes two of us," Thomas' voice grew louder with each syllable. "You're too goddamned busy trying to rebel and be this motorcycle god to think about anything else. Who do you think you are, trying to tell me whether to stay or to go?"

Abel could feel the ire rising in his chest._ That little bastard._ The older Teller strode purposefully over to the younger, bridging the gap between them. Abel looked up at Thomas, who had a good three inches on him. Thomas didn't flinch. In fact, he didn't move at all; he was pure, solid stone, and he didn't cower at Abel's close proximity.

"You're going home." Abel's words were a sharp staccato.

"No, I am not." Thomas was calm. He knew Abel was trying to intimidate him, and he didn't care.

"Yes, you _are_." With the last syllable, Abel pushed Thomas. Thomas stumbled, but he didn't fall. Fury jolted through his pores, and without another word, Thomas pushed back.

"Fuck you Thomas!" Infuriated at his brother's retaliation, Abel pushed back harder, causing Thomas to almost fall once more. He shifted his weight to regain his balance, and once it returned, Thomas threw a punch at Abel. It landed square on his jaw, and it hurt like hell. Abel couldn't remember a time when Thomas had ever laid hands on him.

"What the fuck, Thomas? What is fucking wrong with you?" Abel grabbed his brother by the throat and pushed him against the wall. Thomas laughed in his face.

"You…think…that…I'm…going away?" Thomas challenged Abel in between gasps for air. "She…raised me…just like she…raised…you." Thomas' face was red as Abel pressed him harder against the wall. Abel was waiting to see the resignation in his brother's eyes. He was waiting to see surrender. Moments passed, and Thomas' eyes didn't change. He didn't beg or plead or squirm or fight. He just allowed Abel to continue the assault. The only thing Thomas had in his favor was stubbornness. Abel could have easily strangled him to death, but he didn't. Both men knew it was a moment to prove themselves to one another, and neither one wanted to back down.

" You're gonna do what you want, no matter what I say." Abel spoke more of a sentence than a question. Thomas smiled through the pain, and it made Abel's stomach turn. Abel released his brother, defeated. Thomas sucked in air and clutched at his throat.

"You're just now figuring that out?" Thomas quipped. He stood straighter and kept a hand at his throat. Abel felt his heart constrict. Just weeks ago, SAMCRO had felt so right. Now, his hands ached from pinning his younger brother to the wall. His mother was missing, and he had no idea where to start looking for her. A crimpled up, bloody note rested between his fingers. In the years since they'd left Charming, no intruders came knocking on their door. As kids, they were free to roam the countryside as they pleased. Norco brought anonymity and freedom. Charming was simply a mess. Abel's conscience began warring with his heart, and as he gazed at Thomas, he didn't know which side was going to win.

"I'm not going anywhere, Abel," Thomas' words brought Abel to attention. He stoically watched as Thomas went to the dresser and began throwing his clothes back into their bags. _This is all my fault, _Abel thought sadly. Regret began to seep into him. All the ever wanted was to know his father, and when he was on the back of that motorcycle, or talking to Chibs or Tig or Happy, he felt a connection he could only barely recall. That need caused the mess they were in. God only knew who had Wendy. God only knew what was going to happen next. Chaos flooded his mind, and he fought the anxiety that suddenly plagued him. _Our freedom is gone. My brother thinks he can handle this, when I can barely handle this. _Wendy's words haunted him. _You don't know what the hell you're doing, Abel, and you're going to regret it. You're going to lose everything, just like Jax did._

_"_You're out of your damned mind," Abel said quietly. His heart constricted painfully as it knocked out a syncopated rhythm within his chest. It wasn't often that the old defect bothered him, but when it did, it ached like all hell. "I can't believe you want to go with me. You don't belong in Charming, Tommy."

"I think I should be the one that figures that out, not you," Thomas' words were firm, but they were no longer spit out in defiance. "I'm not letting you do this alone, Abel, so don't stop me. I am so goddamned tired of everyone thinking I can't handle our father's side of things. It's time for me to be a Teller, just like you." _  
><em>Thomas busied himself with gathering his things. He slipped on a pair of old sneakers. He didn't even speak to Abel as he walked out to his loaner car. He threw the bag in the back seat. He was about to head inside when Abel walked out.

"You got everything, Thomas? I'm locking everything up." Silently, Thomas nodded. _There's no time to waste, _he thought. Relieved that Abel wasn't going to fight him anymore, he watched as Abel lifted a small pack onto his shoulders. He locked the door behind him. Abel's face looked older than his years; worry was etched into his eyes, and his mouth was hard and firm.

"Yeah, Abel. I'm good." Without saying anything else, Abel walked over to his Harley and cranked it. The sound of beautifully tuned exhaust pipes filled the otherwise peaceful January morning. Thomas got in his car and watched as Abel began the careful ascent down the driveway. Thomas marveled as Abel navigated the old gravel path without a problem. As they got onto the highway, Thomas couldn't help but wonder if Abel noticed the sign just down the road. Perhaps he was so used to the drive by now, a mile marker sign was of no consequence to him anymore, but Thomas noticed it immediately.

_Charming 139 mi. _Within an hour, the Teller boys would be back in a town Thomas couldn't even remember. Tears stung the back of his eyes as he remembered his mother's warning. Still, it felt that Fate was drawing them in, like there was something more to understand about the tiny town he'd only heard about. Worry saturated his heart, but the minute Abel kicked the Harley into a higher gear, the worry disappeared and a little bit of hope lingered, and only one thought remained. They were going to get through this. They were going to find Wendy and be okay. They were Jax Teller's sons after all. Capable of anything and everything. He felt his chest swell with a little pride as he realized how much his brother loved and trusted him. He felt invincible. As kids, there was something Abel would say to get them through, to help one another in times of triumph and sorrow, when life got too crazy. He told Thomas that they always had one another, and there was nothing that could stop them. As they sped down the hallway, those three words lingered on his soul and in his mind_._

_We've got this. _


	6. Chapter 6

Wendy was cold. A hollow ache filled her head as her eyes fluttered open. It was dark, so dark she couldn't see. There was no slight ray of light, no shimmer of any kind of hope. Her eyes searched through the blackness only to find more of the same. She was terrified, but she couldn't cry, not yet. Her heart was broken already, where she was or who had her no longer mattered. The tears were given to her husband; the stranger that had her hadn't earned her sobs. Her thoughts were still of Nero; she kept thinking of how they used to lay in their huge King bed, dreaming of the future while whispering of the past. Charming always lingered in them, even as they desperately tried to ignore it. It was in darkness like this where'd they would they'd work through their fucked up lives.

"We're certainly reincarnated, aren't we, Mami?" Wendy closed her eyes as Nero's arms encircled her. She had catapulted backwards in time, to a long gone Christmas Eve. They were sprawled in their gigantic bed. She ignored her current state of bleak blindness. If she concentrated enough, she could smell his earthy, humble scent. December was upon her. Golden lights flickered through her windows again.

"What do you mean?" she'd asked. Her eyes turned to him. Even though they'd been together almost a decade at that point, they stayed unmarried. They were so comfortable with their life the way it was, they never thought it a necessity. Both Abel and Thomas were in high school. Lucius had long since passed. The pretty holiday lights streamed through her windows, and it cast both light and dark contrasting shadows across his face. She was laying in the crook of a long, well-muscled arm as she gazed lovingly upon him. His hair had more salt than pepper coloring, but it gave his still smooth, caramel skin a lovely contrast. He was still lean and still very handsome.

"Reincarnation is all about being reborn, right?" Wendy thought about his question.

"I've always thought it's more about the soul being reborn than the body," she responded.

"You're right, Mami. For the soul. It's the idea of a fresh start, a new chance," Nero said slowly. "I think of us every time I hear that word. We could have been so much less. We could have stayed in Charming. We could have stayed part of the Sons. After Jax hurled himself in front of that truck…" Wendy placed a hand on Nero's bare chest, just over his heart. It beat steadily beneath her touch. She nuzzled against him and kissed his jawline gently.

"But we didn't stay. We did what Jax and Tara wanted. We took the boys and got the hell out of there. We ran as far and as hard as we could, and we've made it. Abel will graduate in a couple of years, and Tommy will follow, and we've got nothing but time."

Nero swallowed hard. The thought of time jerked his heart. Lucius was a constant reminder of how time lied to him. It was never on his side. It just teased him into thinking he'd have forever, when really, he only had moments. He clutched his wife tightly. He needed more moments.

"We got a second chance." Wendy sat up on her elbow. His dark eyes bore into hers. A smile played across her lips. For a moment, she thought of the past. Of Jax and heroin. Of Gemma and Tara. Of Abel and Thomas and Lucius. Of the club. She used to hate the past. She used to curse it. Now, being in Nero's arms, she was grateful for the agony. She was thankful for every track mark, every tear, every moment. Without them, she wouldn't be as grateful for the bliss.

"We did." She leaned in and kissed him. His arms pulled her closer. She melted into him. The only thing between her skin and Nero's was the flimsy cotton of her oversized tee shirt, and that would surely be gone soon. With a groan of desire, he stopped. He cradled her face in both hands, and he stared intently into her eyes.

"What's wrong, Nero?" she queried. Nero took a deep breath, but Wendy could see his midnight eyes fill with tears. The lights outside reflected in them. The sight of it took Wendy's breath away.

"Nothing is wrong. Nothing at all." One hand left her face and reached haphazardly for his nightstand. Wendy sat up, allowing Nero to do the same. A childlike grin split his face as he reached into his drawer. He pulled a tiny gift wrapped box from it. Quietly, he passed it to her. She giggled sweetly. Nero loved Christmas.

"You couldn't wait, could you?" she sighed as she pulled the top of the box.

"I wanted this for you and me alone, Mami. Open it."

She gasped as she pulled a tiny, black velvet ring box from the package. Her heart began to pound. It skipped a beat as Nero stood quickly and dropped to one knee. She could barely breathe as she opened the delicate box. Inside rested a stunning black diamond ring. Cushion cut and surrounded by white diamonds, Wendy shook as she plucked it from the box. Nero took it from her. His hands were shaking just as badly, and the sheepish grin he gave her caused a torrent of tears to roll down her face. With unsteady hands, and just as many tears, Nero slipped the one karat stunner on her left ring finger.

"Wendy, you are my second chance. You are beautiful and warm and wonderful. You are an amazing mother to our boys. You have held me down like no other, especially after Lucius passed. You are the beginning to my ending, and I will be forever grateful for you. Destiny brought you to me, and I cannot let you go. I want the world to know you're mine. _Officially mine." _Wendy rolled her eyes lovingly at the last sentence.

"Wendy, will you marry me?"

"Yes Nero, yes. A hundred times over, yes, yes, yes." She closed her eyes as he swept her into a tight and joyous embrace. She held his face as his lips touched hers.

"Yes what?" The words were harsh and guttural, and they brought Wendy back to reality. Back to black. Back to nothing. Wendy jumped as the voice cut through the darkness. Wendy twirled her black diamond around her ring finger. Beneath it sat a band of white diamonds. Obviously, the men that took her had no interest in robbery, because she still had it on. In fact, they barely touched her after the initial grab.

"N…Noth…Nothing," she stammered. She never saw any of their faces. They'd come in the night. Apparently, her abductors had a thing for the nighttime. They'd stolen into her house so quietly before, she didn't even know they were there until she awoke. Clad in all black, from ski masks to shoes, it took three of them to get her out the door.

"Abel! Tom-" A black gloved hand stopped her words as they dragged her quickly through the house. They were strong. She kicked violently, but they held her steady. As they left the house, she looked up. Twinkling stars lit up the night sky. With no preamble, the men threw her into a black windowed van. They sped away into the night, leaving a trail of dust and gravel behind them.

"If you scream, I will kill you." Blue eyes peeked from one of the ski masks. The voice was a low, unfamiliar grumble as he talked. She nodded to demonstrate understanding, and the mystery man moved his hand from her mouth.

"Goodnight Wendy." They were the last words she heard before the fist made contact with her face, causing her to blackout.

She'd woken in the blackness, with only the memories of Nero to comfort her. The voice mumbled as he were talking to someone else, before a light flickered on. The three were there, still clad in all black. Their faces were covered. Blue eyes stared at her, as Wendy tried to make eye contact with the others. The other two men lowered their gazes.

"Who the fuck are you?" Wendy was astonished to see herself in a tiny, unfinished basement. Her body was crumpled on the frigid cement floor. Her knees peeked through her now torn black yoga pants, which she'd worn with a black tee shirt to bed. Her body ached terribly, but her head bellowed in pain.

"The only one who should be concerned with that is your boy." The words were low and measured. It was as if the man was trying to disguise his voice. It sounded like he had a massive problem doing that.

"My boy?" Wendy narrowed her eyes.

"Abel. Abel Teller. He _is _your boy, right?" The man started walking slowly towards her. One hand rested by his side, the other rested behind his back. Wendy immediately became alarmed. She started pushing herself against the wall, but there were no escape. These men could slit her throat right now, and there would be nothing she could do about it.

"Yes, he's my boy." Her voice was strong when she said that. She'd been gone long enough now for the boys to know she was gone. She knew Abel would run through hell to find her. Thomas would too.

"The boy you almost killed with heroin?" The question was simple and straightforward. Wendy's eyes widened with shock. No one in Norco knew of her past. The only ones that knew were Sons and the boys themselves. Wendy felt certain aspects click in her head, but she still couldn't pin who it was. Her brain was swimming with pain from the previous blow. She didn't answer him.

"Oh, the junkie has a nerve," the man in black stated to his partners. They all engaged in empty laughter. Without hesitation, he pulled out a syringe. It was filled with an amber liquid. Immediately, Wendy knew what it was, and she began to stutter.

"No. NO! Please. I've been clean almost thirty years…please, you can't…you'll kill me! Please stop…" The masked man lunged at her, and even though she tried to run, her head injury worked against her. She was incredibly dizzy, and she stumbled. The man caught her by the ankle and pulled her close. She could smell the scent of heavy cologne.

"Hold her down." The command sounded awful in Wendy's ears. The other two men stretched her arms wide. As she fought, she noticed the hands of her other captors. _They are brown. Almost the same color as Nero. Oh God, Nero, help me…please, please help me…_

__ Within seconds, she felt the prick of the needle in her delicate flesh. Then came the _whoosh _of the drug as he pushed it into her system. Soon, her pain was gone. It only took seconds for the high to hit, and once it did, she didn't care who she was. All she could feel was a weird, strange kind of peace. She closed her eyes and drifted back to her past. Thoughts of Nero blanketed her as she drifted to unconsciousness.

The men left the room, flicking the light switch as they exited. They could hear Wendy mumble as they locked the door behind them.

"Yes, Nero…Oh yes, a hundred times, yes…"

"What's next, Boss?" The men removed the masks. Their leader did the same. Haunting blue eyes stared at them as they awaited further instruction. He crossed his arms. There was no emotion in his eyes. There was nothing at all lingering there. Wendy's ecstasy quickly turned to agony, and they could hear her cries as they waited for the response.

"We'll see if she lives through the night." He uncrossed his arms and walked towards the stairs. Wendy's screams echoed from the room as the other two followed, not really caring if the helpless woman locked within lived or died.


	7. Chapter 7

Thomas never understood the pull of Charming. That was always more of Abel's department. Abel remembered more than he did of the strange, mysterious town. He remembered SAMCRO. He remembered Jax, and he remembered Tara. Thomas ached with the thought. He was so young when Tara was murdered. If there were any memories at all, they were long gone.

The only connection Thomas had to that life was Abel's homespun SAMCRO fairytales. His brother would only speak of the past when Nero and Wendy weren't around. The farmland Nero had purchased was expansive, with green grassy pastures. There were days when Wendy would make the boys stay outside and play. On those days, the boys would sprawl underneath the biggest oak tree they could find, the one by those emerald green pastures, and Thomas would listen to Abel's stories about Charming, about Jax and Gemma, about Tara. The stories of biker mayhem never really appealed to him, but the stories about Tara made all the other stories worth it.

"One day, Thomas," Abel said one gorgeous Sunday morning, "I am going back to Charming."

"I know that Abel," Thomas said. He couldn't have been more than ten. Abel was teetering somewhere between childhood and adulthood. The baby fat had gone, and Thomas noticed just how much he resembled the photographs of their father.

"I don't think you do, Tommy," he said softly. Abel stood and reached deep into his pocket. Thomas watched as his older brother produced two gold rings. They glittered in the golden light. Thomas stood to get a better view.

"What's this Abel? Can I see them?" Abel nodded. Thomas plucked the rings out of Abel's palm.

_SONS._ They spelled out the word SONS. Thomas was astonished. His hand shook as he held them.

"Where did you get these?" Thomas asked. He'd never seen them before. Wendy had shown them all she could of the past. There were trinkets and photos and memories that Abel and Thomas had both seen, but those rings were never amongst the SAMCRO artifacts. Abel took them from Thomas' hand and placed them on his fingers. They fit well.

"I got them before Dad died," Abel said quietly. He stared at the rings as if they were ghosts. "I was at school. A voice called me to the gate. It was Gemma."

Thomas' eyes widened. Abel continued.

"She said she was leaving. That she wouldn't see me again. She gave me these," he said, gesturing to the rings. "Told me they were my legacy. Told me I needed to carry on. And she was gone. I watched as she walked away."

"Your legacy? There's no legacy. Wendy and Nero, they told us what Dad did. You want that legacy for yourself?" Abel's thin chest swelled with anger. He bit his lip.

"Dad did what he had to do, Tommy." Abel's tone was bordering on threatening.

"A killing spree is what he had to do?" Thomas countered. Nero and Wendy hadn't kept it from them. The last day of Jax Teller's life was well publicized. The only sheltering that came from Abel and Thomas' adoptive parents was the truth of Gemma's murder. Abel said nothing more. Every time he tried to discuss Charming or their past, Thomas would quote Wendy and Nero. He would side with them. Nothing made him angrier, but he knew Thomas wouldn't budge. Abel realized a long time ago that he was Jax, and Thomas was Tara, but they were both stubborn as hell.

It was strange seeing his younger brother in the Teller-Morrow garage. It was strange to see him in the midst of Croweaters and bikers. He didn't fit. Abel smiled sadly. _I'm sure this is what Tara looked like when she was here. _The Croweaters flocked to him, just like they did Abel. Where Abel would gladly partake of any hot girl that crossed his path, Thomas gently and politely declined. It made him wonder if his little brother had a girl back in NYC.

"He looks like his motha," Chibs' voice was slightly nostalgic. Abel turned to face the President of SAMCRO. He looked every second of his sixty eight years. His once thickly muscled frame was now gaunt. The cancer that ran through Chibs' lungs had metastasized to his bones. Once diagnosed, the doctor had originally given him but six months to live. That was almost two years ago. The old Scot had life in him yet, but both he and Abel knew it wouldn't be that much longer.

"Yeah, he does. Thinks like her too. I told him not to be here, but he didn't listen." Abel watched as his brother grabbed a beer. Thomas downed it quickly.

"He needs to be a part of finding your motha. His mind won't be right unless he does. Anything, no matter how small, will make him feel betta." Chibs sounded short winded. He refused oxygen. Because of that, he'd wheeze and gasp his way through his day.

"Have you heard anything? Has your intel panned out at all?" Chibs shook his head.

"Nothing, Abel. Not a damned thing. I dinna know where Wendy is. I have everyone I know of working on it." Abel looked down at his feet. There wasn't a trace of Wendy anywhere. The Mayans, the Niners, and any other club within a one hundred mile radius knew nothing of Wendy Padilla. They, much like the rest of Charming and Stockton, left both she and Nero in the past. It was where they belonged. Now, Nero was gone, and Wendy was missing, and there were no ties to anyone they knew.

"She has to be somewhere, Chibs. I mean, you and I both know that this is no accident, just like you and I both know she didn't leave on her own." Chibs nodded. He knew that much was true. He just didn't know what the next step was. His gut told him Wendy was close to death, but there was no reason why. He also knew that the _why_ was the key to finding Abel's mother.

"You need anything, boys?" The voice was sugar and molasses with a tinge of Spanish. Long caramel arms draped over Chibs from behind. The old man turned to face her.

"Nah, Winsome love, I'm fine." Abel's eyes travelled the length Chibs' old lady. She was older, but goddamn, she was beautiful. Long raven hair cascaded in waves down to her ample hips. Chocolate brown eyes surveyed him carefully. Her skin was smooth and unblemished, and as she smiled, a sweet, pretty blush diffused her cheeks.

"You need anything, Abel?" It was a simple question that he didn't have a simple answer to. He needed Wendy back. He needed Thomas to go back to New York. He needed to be left alone in this world of SAMCRO, a world to which he was quickly growing accustomed. He'd heard the whispers amongst the Croweaters and amongst the club. They all knew Chibs was not long for the world. The natural leader elect should have been Tig, but he had no interest. He was nearing seventy himself. The other Sons didn't have what was needed to run it.

_Divine providence. _Chibs saw it as such when Jax's son came back to Charming. Chibs wanted nothing more than to take Abel in, the sooner, the better. But every single time he leaned towards patching the boy in, he remembered his promise to Jax. That rooftop was an entire lifetime ago. He could still remember his brother's embrace. He could still hear his words.

"Promise me, Chibs." He held good on that promise for as long as he could. Then came the cancer and the death sentence, and Chibs knew there was only one way for SAMCRO to go. It had to go with the new blood. It had to go to someone with SAMCRO running though his veins, someone whose very DNA screamed for the club. Tig agreed, as did the rest of the club. Once the prospecting was over, Abel would be primed to move to President. Chibs prayed he'd have enough time to teach him. He didn't want a novice running the show, but he was the best choice. Regardless of a promise, even Jax would reluctantly agree to it. At least that's what Chibs told himself. He had to rationalize it somehow.

"I don't need anything, Winsome, but thank you." Abel smiled politely at the beautiful woman. Her breath caught in her throat. _God, he's his father all over again. _Memories of their night all those years ago flashed again in her mind. _I wish you had stayed, Jax Teller._

__She made her way behind the bar. She leaned over and grabbed a bottle of whiskey.

"Hey Ma," a low male voice said. She stood. A smile spread wide across her beautiful face.

"Julius!" she screamed. She ran around the bar and made her way to the man. He scooped her in his arms and spun her around. She giggled as he placed her back on the ground.

"Who's that?" Abel asked. Chibs smiled.

"That's Julius. Winsome's son. He just got back from Vancouver. He's been up there, doing work for us. He left before you came here. He's been back and forth a couple of times, but you always seemed to miss one another."

Abel nodded. He watched as Winsome conversed with her boy. He was tall and slender, with the same thick, midnight black hair as his mother, as well as the same caramel skin. She nodded in their direction and grabbed his hand. They walked over to Abel and Chibs.

"Julius!" Chibs said enthusiastically. He hugged the younger man and clapped him on the back. Thomas, seeing the display, had ventured over to the group.

"Abel, Thomas," Winsome said happily, "This is my son, Julius. Julius, these fine young men are Abel and Thomas Teller. Jax Teller's boys."

Julius looked at the Teller boys. They stared back. It looked as though they were sizing one another up, and in all truth, they were. Thomas felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. There was something not right about the man before him. He was dressed well and put together, and his smile was kind, but that wasn't what alerted Thomas. It was the eyes. They were crystal blue and cold, and his friendly grin didn't reach them.

Unbeknownst to Thomas, Abel had the same feeling. There was something very off about Winsome's boy, and he wondered if the obviously doting mother realized it, or she ignored it, or if her good old son kept his crazy a secret. As it stood, Winsome was happy to be next to her son. Her arm wrapped around his waist.

"Nice to meet you, Julius." Abel's voice was low, and he struggled to make it kind. He extended a hand. Julius took it. _Ice cold._ _Just like his eyes._

"Likewise," Julius said coolly.

"C'mon baby, let's get something to eat." Winsome directed her son to the kitchen.

"That one's trouble, Chibs," Abel said quietly.

"I know," Chibs answered back. "He has been from the beginning."

There was no one else in the kitchen. Julius sat at the table while Winsome grabbed lunch meat and mustard. Her back was turned to her son.

"It's done, Ma." Winsome stopped moving and turned to face her son. His blue eyes bore into hers. She smiled, satisfied with the words.

"You got her?" Winsome asked. Julius nodded.

"Where is she?" Winsome crossed her arms under her breasts.

"Don't worry about that, Ma. The less you know about the dirty work, the better. Leave that to me. Just know that I've got her, and as of this morning, she was very much alive."

Winsome's eyes closed. She had waited so long for this. The day Jax Teller died was the most horrible day of her life. _He saved me. _Jax helped her escape the hands of that junkie pimp bastard. He put her up at Diosa to make sure she had a steady income. _He made love to me_. Her eyes opened with the memory. _He made love to me like no one else ever had. _She looked at her son.

_And you are the product of that love. _Julius was born nine months after Jax's death. Being a single mother was hell, but Julius made it all worth it. Winsome worked for Diosa for a couple of years after, made good money, enough to get a place of her own for them. By that point, she'd ensnared the heart of Chibs. It hadn't been easy, but she got to Old Lady status. Men of a certain age were predictable, and for the first time in years, she felt safe. When the time came, Julius would patch into SAMCRO and take his rightful spot at the head of the table.

Abel Teller changed all of that. When he rolled into Charming, everything turned upside down. He wanted a seat at the table, and he made it known to Chibs. Chibs resisted like hell. Stonewalled him. Then he got sick, and it was all off the table. Her plan to be the mother of SAMCRO's president was all but destroyed.

She planned to tell Chibs of Julius' parentage. She planned to get him in that way, but once Abel arrived and prospected in, she held her tongue. Nero's death made it to where she could make a move. Kidnapping Wendy Padilla was the first step. She and Julius would frame a rival gang, and he would swoop in and save the day. Then she would tell Chibs about Julius being Jax's son. That, plus the saving of Jax's ex, would cement his place amongst SAMCRO royalty. It was where he belonged.

She walked across the room towards Julius. She placed a protective arm around him.

"You're just like him, you know. He was a great man, Julius. And you're set to take his place. Just a little more time."

"I know Ma." He smiled sheepishly. All he wanted was to make her happy. She had done so much for him. He'd do anything she asked. He always did. This time, he would do as she asked, but even Winsome had no idea what her son was plotting.

"It'll be over soon, son." He nodded. Yes, it would be over soon. _It's just a damned shame those Teller boys will be dead at the end of it all. I know you'll understand, Mama._

_You always do. _


	8. Chapter 8

Winsome was still a fine piece of ass. She studied her reflection for changes in her long, lean body. There were none. After Julius's birth twenty-five years prior, her body snapped back into place, and she'd been more than grateful for it. Her black jeans and black tank top were molded perfectly to her curvaceous frame. She slipped a pair on thigh high black boots on and threw a fitted black jacket on. She swept her long, dark hair into a hat. If it weren't for her tits, she'd look almost male. She smiled seductively at her reflection. Even in this get up, she knew she looked good.

A gentle knock on the door caught her attention. She turned to see Julius standing there. She sighed when his blue eyes met hers. _Jax. _God, she missed him. Their one night all those years ago had cemented his place in her heart. _He saved me, _she thought. She was right. She closed her eyes and remembered the weight of his body against hers. She remembered him pushing into her, loving her, treating her like she was the most precious thing in the world.

"Tara," he moaned low. She didn't care that he said his dead wife's name. Winsome understood that kind of pain. She had no parents. Her father made sure Winsome gained orphan status after her father found her mother with another man. Edgar Santiago made sure that his wife never saw the light of day, and the dick that plunged into the woman he'd loved met the same fate: Edgar plugged their heads with bullets before turning the gun on himself.

Winsome heard everything.

"Whore!" Edgar's voice rang through the house. Winsome knew that anger; she'd been on the receiving end of Edgar's fists. She closed and locked her door. She sat on her bed and grabbed her pillow. Her entire seventeen year old life consisted of moments of peace punctuated by her parents' violence. It was a familiar, vicious cycle: Edgar would grow bored, and he would fight with Julia, her mother. The fights would ebb and flow, eventually growing into a massive fight that would drive Edgar out of the house.

"Looking for some sweet, young pussy, no doubt," Julia would say angrily, "One that doesn't know his bullshit." She wasn't wrong; Edgar Santiago was well known for his silver tongue, and he wouldn't hesitate to use it on any fine young thing that passed by. Twenty years of that had taken its toll on Julia. After their last fight, Julia took a page from her husband's playbook: she picked up a man and brought him home. Winsome had just arrived from school and heard the yelling. Now locked in her room, she listened as Edgar bellowed at the other man.

"You sonofabitch!" Edgar yelled.

"Go to Hell!" Julia screamed. Then, a screech of unyielding proportions left her mother's throat. Winsome placed the pillow over her face and covered her ears, just as she had over her entire life. The pillow served a dual-purpose; it covered her eyes and ears from the outside, and it shielded her screams.

"Fuck you!" The other man's voice echoed down the stairs. Winsome could hear the rumble of bodies hitting the floor. The sound of fists meeting flesh was unmistakable. Winsome debated running, but she knew what would happen once her father caught her. Her mind blazed with memories of belts and switches ripping her flesh assailed her, and she shivered. She'd stay put for now, regardless of what was going on above. Suddenly, the scuffle ended, and her mother screamed.

"Holy shit, Edgar! What the hell are you trying to do?!" Winsome knew the sound. It was terror.  
>"Yeah, holy shit!" Edgar mocked. They were silent for a moment, and then Winsome heard her father speak again. "I loved you Julia, and you do this to me?" Winsome's eyes widened as she listened. Her stomach churned with the sound. For the first time ever, Edgar Santiago was sobbing.<p>

"You love me, Edgar? You? Love? Me?" Julia's voice was brittle glass that shattered into hard, frigid laughter. "You love those little puntas you fuck all night! Well, turnabout is fair play, motherfucker!"

_Pop Pop Pop. _The sound of gunshot resounded through the house. Winsome wanted to scream, but her mother beat her to it. _Pop Pop Pop. _The sound repeated itself. Her mother's screams stopped. All was silent. It stayed like that for a while. Winsome's heart exploded in her chest, and she was frozen with fear. A careful knock on the door jolted her body.

"Winsome?" her father's voice was suddenly very old and very tired. She stood slowly and walked towards the door. "Winsome honey, open the door."

Her hands trembled as she went to open the door, but she grasped the knob and opened it. Too horrified to scream, she gasped. Edgar stood before her, covered in blood. His old Glock rested in his hand. Winsome stepped back, terrified.

"No, Chiquita," he reverted to her childhood nickname. "I won't kill you too." His dark eyes were wide with confusion. _Too_? _Oh God, oh my God. _As reality set in, she realized why the house was so quiet. Her mother's lover was dead. Her mother was probably dead too. Her eyes welled with tears.  
>"Papi, what did you do?" she whispered. He placed a heavy, sticky hand on her shoulder. Her eyes bulged as she stared at it; it was covered in dried blood. Her throat ached with the urge to scream, but all she could do is cry silently. Her lips trembled as she opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. Edgar had rendered her speechless.<p>

"I did what I had to do, Winsome," he said, resigned. His grip on her shoulder loosened, and his arm fell to his side. Wordlessly, he raised his left hand. Winsome gasped as the gun glimmered in the sunlight that shimmered through her windows. At first, she thought he was going to kill her too, but when he held the gun to his own temple, the scream she'd harbored within her belly erupted.

"Papi! No, Papi, no Papi, no Papi no…" she moaned. Edgar didn't listen. The revolver shook as Edgar's hand shook.

"I'm sorry, Winsome." The sentence was punctuated with a massive bang and a splatter of brains on her bedroom wall. Stunned, Winsome stood there, staring at her dead father. She couldn't cry or scream. She was completely and totally numb. In one afternoon, Winsome went from a seventeen year old girl to an orphan. She wasn't going to wait for Child Protective Services to get her. She grabbed a bag and stuffed it with clothes. She ran from her home before anyone could know she was missing.

Beneath Jax Teller, Winsome felt alive. She hadn't felt alive in so long. She'd met Greensleeves within a week of running, and she'd walked in a drugged out haze since. Jax and Chibs saved her. They killed him, and they freed her. When Jax sought her bed, it was like Fate had pushed him in her path. She ached when he spoke of his wife. She longed to heal those wounds, and as he pumped rhythmically into her, she thought that she'd have time to figure it all out. Maybe her wounds would heal as she made him better.

When he left her at Diosa the next morning, she thought she'd see him again. She watched from the whorehouse as he sped away on his Harley, and for a moment, she allowed herself to dream of happily ever after with the President of SAMCRO. She had no idea that, just days later, Jax would enter a losing battle with a tractor trailer. She had no idea that the one night they shared was resulting in a baby.

"You ready, Ma? We got to get going." Julius was a gorgeous man. Winsome was shocked that Chibs hadn't recognized the resemblance. She gazed at her child and smiled wolfishly. The blue eyes and the jawline were Jax Teller's, as were the height and the build, but his cheeks and coloring and long, midnight black hair were all Winsome.

"I'm ready," she said quietly. Julius pivoted on his heel and left the room. She followed. It was dark as hell outside, and it was one time she was grateful for Chibs being gone on a late night run. She stole away to her son's black van. As the van sped into the night, she couldn't help but think of the man she'd been with for the last twenty years.

At first, he was one of her regulars at Diosa. Supporting Julius was a full time job, even if that job was on her back. It was easy to care for the Scot, because he had helped Jax with Greensleeves all those years ago. For five years, she regularly bedded him, and he paid for it. In the beginning, there wasn't a lot of talking, but as his influence grew, and his position as SAMCRO President grew, he grew closer to the beautiful woman. He began telling her of his past, of his wife Fiona and his daughter, Kerrianne. Winsome remembered what happened to them. It was a tragic tale, and it was all Jax's fault. One of the many murders he committed during his last hours on Earth cost Chibs dearly. Jax's murder of an Irish King caused the IRA to lash out at the new President.

She shivered as she recalled the night Chibs learned of his girls' fate. A car bomb took the lives of Chibs' wife and daughter, and Chibs never fully recovered. Their deaths came long after Jax's demise, and it was a massive blow to the club as well. They weren't expecting it, especially five years after Chibs took over. No one understood _why_, but Chibs did. He had known his girls were in danger. He knew it the day the King died, but a certain complacency washed over him after the five years, and that was exactly when the IRA looked for.

Much like Jax had just a few years earlier, Chibs sought her bed to assuage his grief, and Winsome slowly gained the life she'd envisioned that morning at Diosa: she became the President's Old Lady, and with that place came responsibility. Even then, she'd been racking her brain with how to cement Julius' status in the club. Chibs would be the perfect sponsor, and after her son was patched in, she'd tell him who his father really was. It would take time, but her original plan would put Julius at the head of the table. She would remain Queen of SAMCRO, and probably gain even more clout than she already had. The idea was a good one until Abel Teller arrived.

"We're here, Ma," Julius said slowly. He turned to face her from his position in the front seat.  
>He tossed her a black ski mask. "Here, put this on. Make sure to twist your hair in, so she can't grab it." Winsome did as she was told. There was no room for conversation as they stepped out of the van.<br>The only sound was the crunch of gravel beneath their feet as they walked. Julius led his mother to the back of the abandoned house. Carefully, he opened the massive red door. It led to a narrow, steep staircase, which Julius expertly navigated.

"Careful," her son admonished as she slipped on the rickety steps. They snaked through a cement hallway, and at the end, Winsome spied another red door. Julius produced a key and slid it into the doorknob, which turned easily beneath his hand.

"Nero?" Wendy's hoarse voice called out. The room was dark. Julius flicked the switch as they entered the room. Winsome stifled a gasp as she laid eyes on Jax Teller's first wife. Dirty and completely disheveled, Wendy sat on the cold floor. Her heroin riddled body sagged against the concrete wall, and her sepia eyes stared at Winsome from beneath hooded lids, and Winsome knew her unkempt counterpart was high. A smile broke beneath her ski mask. _Perfect. _

_"_I've heard about you, Wendy," Winsome almost purred. It was true; Chibs had, in their long association, told her all of the Sons of Anarchy. She was well-versed in SAMCRO history; she knew about Jax and Tara's love, about Gemma and Clay's insanity, about JT's fucked up sense of loyalty, and about her beloved Jax's decision to die. She also knew about Wendy's marriage to Jax and her addiction. She knew of Abel's birth and Wendy's dance with heroin as well.

"Who. The fuck. Are you?" Wendy was barely coherent. She smiled an exhausted, hazy smile. "Another masked intruder?" A low, sarcastic laugh erupted from her lips.

"You don't need to know who I am, bitch," Winsome said with contempt. Hatred stewed in her veins for the woman sitting before her. _I know what you're fucking up to. I know what you're trying to do._

"Don't I?" Wendy's scratchy throat bubbled with heroin high laughter, which stopped abruptly. Her eyes were closed and her head was tilted towards the sky. "I guess I don't. I don't need shit anymore, and I don't really give a fuck who you are."

Julius, who had been standing by the door, spanned the distance of the tiny room. Without a word, he grabbed Wendy by her hair and punched her. Winsome winced at the sight. Julius, seeing the horror in his mother's eyes, let go of his victim and stepped away. Wendy cursed, but the drugs Julius had injected into her bloodstream worked well. She barely felt the staggering blow, but tomorrow, before they gave her the high, she'd feel it, and she'd be begging for heroin again.

"Was that necessary?" Winsome asked. Julius looked down. "I mean, if you're going to do it, at least do it right." Winsome's long, beautifully shaped hand balled into a fist and got Wendy square in the jaw. Julius inhaled deeply with a mix of confusion, admiration, and shock.

"Fucking bitch," Wendy murmured as her head lolled about. She was high enough where pain made no difference.

"Fucking bitch?" Winsome repeated. A harsh slap landed on Wendy's face. "Do you know who I am, _punta_? I am your worst fucking nightmare. You and that bitch ass son of yours."

"Abel is going to kill you," Wendy chuckled through the opiate haze. "Even if I don't give a fuck who you are. I don't even give a fuck if I die right now. I just know that my son will slit your throat."  
>Winsome stood and kicked Wendy's ribs, which she did feel. She gasped deeply with pain. Winsome lowered herself to look at her opponent once more. Wendy, still a fighter, spit in her attacker's face. A thick spew of spit landed on the open eye socket of Winsome's mask. Winsome cried out in disgust and removed it.<p>

"Mom!" Julius yelled, then winced. _Mom_. He shouldn't have said that. Winsome's beautiful face met Wendy's, and Julius could tell his mother was losing control.

"I don't give a fuck now, Julius. This bitch is going to die." Winsome's brown eyes flashed with white hot fury and frustration. She grinned malevolently at Wendy. "You see," she whispered, "I was going to keep you high, then I was going to overdose you. You'd die, and my son and I would dump your white trash body onto the side of the highway."

"Mom, stop." Winsome looked at her son and continued. She punched Wendy once more, as if to prove a point. Wendy collapsed, and it appeared Winsome's punch was a strong one. Shocked by the force of the blow, she slumped over. Once they realized she was unconscious, they were free to speak at will.

"I have a new plan now," she vehemently stated. She glared at Julius. "No more drugs. Let her fucking suffer. Let the junkie detox." Julius' mouth was agape.

"Why?" Julius questioned. Nothing she was saying made sense.

"Disrespect," Winsome said matter-of-factly. "I'm not stupid. This bitch played the fucking get-out-of-Charming card when Jax died, but she has no problems sending her son in to claim the throne? I find that hard to believe."

"Abel…" Wendy moaned, but no other words came out. Pain was setting in, which meant the drugs were wearing off.

"Abel," Winsome mocked. "He can't fucking save you. He and that dumb bastard, Thomas, don't even know where the fuck you are. They can't even get a good lead together. If they looked, they'd know! Shows how smart your boys are!" A strange giggle escaped Winsome's lips.

"Mom, I…" Julius began, and Winsome held a hand up, silencing her son.

"Fuck her. She thinks that idiot Abel can run a club when he can't even find her! It's not like I made it hard! If it were you, Julius, I'd be found in hours, not days. _That's _what makes you a leader, Julius. _That's what makes you Jax Teller's son. _Abel and Thomas lost sight of that, and it's their fucking loss."

Wendy's head spun with both Winsome's revelation and the quickly disappearing high. _Jax Teller's son? _ She struggled to open her eyes. _Jax Teller's long lost son. Utter insanity_.

"Take her off the drugs. When she's clean, shoot her. Then torch the house." The instructions themselves were simple, but carrying them out wouldn't be. Julius nodded to show understanding. He had no idea how to kill a woman; he'd only ever killed a man.

Winsome stood and walked towards her son. She looked up at him, amazed at his beauty. _Oh Jax, _she thought, _I wish I could've healed your wounds. _ A delicate hand stroked his cheek. _But he gave me you, son. He gave me you. _She turned away and walked out. Julius turned the light off, leaving Wendy in complete darkness.

__"Enjoy your night Wendy," he said gently. "Because it is probably going to be your last." Wendy sat up slowly, enveloped by darkness. She rocked back and forth , holding her knees as she did so. She had to figure something out; she had to escape. She'd rather take the chance and know she tried. After all, it was better to die free than live confined.


	9. Chapter 9

Abel couldn't sleep. The sounds within the clubhouse no longer kept him awake; it was the silence that did it. The older guys didn't hang overnight much; they all had old ladies to go home to. It was he and Thomas and a couple of prospects within those old walls, and for the first time since Nero's passing, Abel felt out of place there.

He sat on the edge of his bed. Restless wasn't the word to describe him. He was anxious and fearful. He was questioning every single second that had passed since Wendy disappeared. He knew he was missing something; he simply didn't know what it was. His guts churned with the thoughts of his mother, and the irony of that didn't escape him. There had been a time where he wouldn't have cared whether Wendy disappeared into thin air.

Abel stood and paced the room. Everywhere he looked, he saw his father. It was the room Jax Teller inhabited and shared with both his mothers. There was a strange, vague part of his memory that recalled the bombing by the Irish, but the bones of the room remained intact. They'd rebuilt, and from the old pictures Abel had seen, it looked like nothing had ever happened. When he first arrived to Charming, he'd taken comfort in the walls of TM. He felt like he'd found a refuge, and he could finally connect with the part of his family he'd been missing.

It wasn't easy to gain entrance into SAMCRO. In fact, just a couple of years prior, Chibs wouldn't even see him. It took Tig talking to him to make it happen. Abel raked his hand through his thick blonde hair as he paused by the window. The parking lot looked desolate and deserted, with only the hollow glow of an orange street light to give it an illusion of warmth. That parking lot had once intimidated him. It made him second guess everything.

It was a hot July day when he pulled into TM for the first time. He'd borrowed Nero's old Dodge. It banged and clanged, but the freedom the wheels brought gave Abel a high he didn't expect. He could only imagine what a motorcycle would feel like.

He'd lied to Nero and said he was going camping with some buddies. He figured it would buy him time. Abel had no idea what to expect as he rolled through the gates; he knew he could be welcomed with open arms, or he could be told to go fuck himself. Back then, he didn't care about the outcome. There was a hunger in his soul, and the only thing that could satisfy it was the knowledge that only SAMCRO could bring.

The ancient pick up rolled into the parking lot. Abel pulled it closer to the garage and stepped out. His hands immediately went to his pockets, and he bit his lip as he searched for someone that could help him.

"Can I help you, son?" a voice questioned from behind. Abel turned in the direction of the voice. Before him stood a tall old man with curly salt and pepper hair. His eyes, a clear stunning blue, widened as they took him in. His thumb and forefinger stroked a matching salt and pepper goatee. The man's mouth was agape. He looked like he'd seen a ghost.

"J…Ja…Jax?" The voice whispered. The man's blue eyes welled with tears and his lips trembled. Abel looked down at his feet. He'd caught Wendy looking at him with the same look. He was Jackson Teller all over again; he'd seen that in old photos of his father. Thomas favored Tara more than he favored Jax. Sometimes, Abel wondered what would have been different had he favored Wendy instead of his father.

"Not Jax," Abel said quietly, "Abel. Abel Teller." He held out a hand. The blue-eyed man took it, and instead of shaking it, pulled the young man in for a hug. Abel was shocked as he felt the man weeping openly in his arms. Abel tightened his embrace. It felt natural to do so.

"Oh my God, Abel," the man whispered brokenly, "You look just…you look just like…"

"My dad," Abel finished. The stranger pulled away and looked at the younger man.

"Yeah, you do." He wiped his eyes and smiled brilliantly. "I'm Tig."

It was Abel's turn to smile. _So this is the infamous Tig_. Abel remembered nights he and Thomas would sneak into the living room. Wendy and Nero had a massive sectional they'd hang out on after they thought the boys were sleeping. Abel had learned early that, if he were quiet enough, he could hang out in a small corner of the living room. The view of that corner was obstructed by a massive recliner no one ever sat in. He'd hide there, hoping they'd talk of the past. Sometimes, he'd get lucky, and they'd talk about it. He'd heard tons of stories about crazy, off-kilter Tig Trager and his love, Venus. He was exhilarated to place a face with the name. Without thinking, Abel embraced the man that his father loved.

"I've heard a lot about you, Tig," Abel said fondly.

"Fuck my life," Tig laughed, clapping the young Teller on his back. "I'm not as bad as people say I am." He broke the embrace.

"Really, Tig?" Abel wanted to laugh, but he couldn't tell whether Tig was joking or serious.

"Not at all," Tig said jovially, "I'm much, much worse." He laughed mightily as he draped a long, lean arm of Abel's shoulder. "C'mon, Teller. I've got some guys that'll love to see you."

They made their way to the clubhouse. Abel had no expectations; he didn't know what the inside looked like, but it didn't matter to him. He just wanted to walk the floors his father walked, to breathe the air he breathed. It didn't matter if the inside was wall-to-wall hell, Abel just needed to be around Jax Teller, and this place was the closest thing he could get.

Tig swung the door open, and Abel was hit with memories. He remembered the explosion just before Tara's death. He remembered running out with Tara. He remembered the screams, but more than anything, he remembered the feeling of Jax's arms around him; he remembered the feeling of his father's heart beating through his chest. It tapped against his as he held Abel close.

Abel fought back tears as he took the clubhouse in. It was exactly as he remembered. It was as if the Irish explosion had been a dream. _What I wouldn't give to have it all be a dream, _Abel thought sadly. _What I wouldn't give to have Dad and Mom here and not in the ground. _He sighed heavily and blinked back tears.

The room was all but empty. In the corner stood a middle-aged man and a tiny, petite redhead. A Latin man stood next to them. They were acutely focused on an intense game of darts, so much so that the devil himself could have walked in, and they wouldn't have noticed.

Behind the bar stood a woman unlike any Abel had ever seen. She was tall, with shoulder length chestnut hair and wide eyes. Her body was lean, and her breasts were massive. Abel studied her face. Her jawline was hard and square, and her wonderful, high cheekbones jutted against her skin. It gave her a severe, manly appearance, but when she locked eyes with Tig, all the hard lines faded away with her brilliant, stunning smile. Abel instantly knew that she had to be Venus VanDamme, the love of Tig's life. Abel always wondered what their love looked like; after all, it was unconventional and foreign to him, but now, seeing them together in person, he knew that love was just love. It didn't matter what it looked like, and a love like theirs was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Abel heard her gasp. She met his eyes, and he could see her tears. Her lips shook, just like her partner's had moments before. She circled around the bar and walked up to them. Dressed in a beautiful blush pink sundress, she seemed to glide towards them. She stopped and stared at Abel.

"Is it okay if I hug you, Abel?" She knew his name like she knew her own. She knew his face, his eyes, his smile. She also knew the haunting glow in his eyes, and she knew he needed some kind of comfort. She smiled timidly, and she looked cautiously at Tig.

Abel didn't answer. He simply nodded and took Venus into his arms. She wrapped her arms around him. He could smell her fragrance. It was a mix of gardenias and roses, and it suited her perfectly. _She hugs me like Mom used to. _He closed his eyes and reveled in what Tara's arms used to feel like. When he opened them, he saw they were surrounded by the people by the dartboard. They stared. Abel was getting used to it. It would be like this for a while. He knew it.

"Welcome home Abel," a tall, heavily tattooed Latin man stoically said. He nodded in return, with a throat full of tears. If he spoke, he knew he'd cry. The Latin man looked as if he had the same problem.

"That's Happy," Venus said sweetly, seeing the young man's struggle. "And that man over there is Rat. Beside him is Brooke, his wife."

"Old lady," Brooke corrected, smiling broadly at Venus. She rested her hands on her burgeoning belly. She looked four or five months pregnant. Venus laughed and rolled her eyes.

"You know how I hate that term," she laughed, "There's nothing refined about an _old lady_. Besides, y'all have been married for almost twenty years. If that ring and those four and a half babies don't say _wife_, I don't know what does."

Brooke giggled and leaned into Rat, who wrapped a loving and protective arm around her. They were both shocked at the resurfacing of Jax's son, but it was a welcome shock.

"You want a drink, sugar?" Venus asked quietly, nodding in the direction of the bar. Abel nodded, and they walked over. Abel sat down. "What would you like?"

"Just a soda for now. I might head back up to Norco tonight." Venus nodded and passed him a Coke.

Just as he took his first sip, the door swung open. Two men, one white with visible facial scars, and one black, with a shiny, bald head, walked in. Both wore SAMCRO kuttes. When the white man noticed Abel, he stopped walking. The scarred man blinked, as if he were dreaming. His mouth opened. It looked as if he wanted to speak, but no words were coming.

"Who is that?" the black man asked. From the sound of his voice, it seemed like he knew the answer.

"TO, you know who this is," Tig answered carefully. Abel watched as Tig crossed to the scarred man.

"Holy shit," TO murmured.

"Yeah, holy shit," the scarred man's Scottish brogue filled the now silent clubhouse.

"Chibs, listen…" Tig began, and Chibs began walking away. _This is Chibs. This is my father's closest friend. He's the man he chose to give SAMCRO to. And he won't even look at me. He won't even acknowledge my presence. _

"Dinna talk to me, Tig," Chibs choked out. "Leave me be." Tig jumped in front of him and tried to stop him. He was promptly pushed to the side.

"Chibs, please…" Tig said quietly. Chibs didn't bother stopping. He paced out of the room and into to Church, slamming the door behind him. Tig went followed, also slamming the door. Abel's jaw tensed. He felt Venus squeeze his shoulder.

"Don't worry, honey," she said calmly, "You just brought back demons long since dismissed. Chibs isn't a bad man, nor is he a mean one. He just loved your daddy something awful, that's all."

"How is that my fault? I didn't do anything wrong," Abel said sadly. He turned towards Venus. The tears that he'd fought back finally fell, and Venus reached out to wipe them away. To his surprise, Abel found himself okay with her touch, even though he'd only known her for a few moments. He'd never opened up to anyone in the way he was opening himself up to Venus. It just came naturally. She had a special soul, and even Abel, in his hard-shelled soul, couldn't deny her.

"You're right, honey," Venus responded, "But Chibs has lost everything he's ever loved, your daddy included. He made promises to Jax, and you being here brings all that back. I love Chibs. I do, but he doesn't deal with shock well, nor does he deal with his demons well."

Abel nodded. He could hear Chibs and Tig yelling back and forth. He closed his eyes.

"I gotta go," he whispered. Venus nodded.

"You should," she replied. "But don't stay gone. Come back. Chibs will take his time to get used to you, but that doesn't mean you're not welcome or that you should stay away. You belong here, Abel." Abel stood.

"Here," Venus said softly. She took a pen from behind the bar and wrote on a napkin. She pushed it in Abel's direction. "The top number is Tig's. The bottom is mine. When you want to come here, just call. It may be best if you come when Chibs is out, at least for now." Abel nodded. He stood and pushed the napkin in his pocket.

The Church door swung open and Tig walked out. His jaw was tense. He took a deep breath and moved towards Abel.

"You gotta go, Abel," Tig stated.

"He was just leaving," Venus interjected. Tig looked at her. Love flooded his eyes, even in that simple moment. Abel secretly wondered if Jax had looked at Tara in the same way. Judging from the fire and the beauty between them, Abel knew the answer to his silent question.

"Here, let me give you my number," Tig said.

"He's already got it, Alex," Venus stated. Abel couldn't help but smile at Tig's real name. Tig's cheeks flushed. "He's got mine too."

"I'll talk to him, Abel," Tig said. "Chibs will come around."

Now, in his father's old room, looking out at the empty TM parking lot, Abel was grateful that Tig did eventually talk Chibs down. It had taken time, but he'd been welcome into the SAMCRO family with open arms. Abel had been told of some of Jax's wishes. Abel had learned the history, and he'd also done his time as a prospect. He knew that Tig had given his blessing for Chibs to hand SAMCRO over to him. He didn't know if he had what it took, especially since Wendy was missing. In his time with Chibs and Tig, Abel had gained so much knowledge about the woman that had birthed him.

He learned how Wendy had stepped out of his life, not out of selfishness, but out of love. She knew that Tara had been a better mother to him at the time. She knew that she wasn't ready, and she admitted to it. He was told the stories of Wendy trying to get him out of the club, even if that meant she'd never see him again. _No wonder her heart had been broken when she saw Chibs in the cemetery_. _The life she fought to steal me away from is the one thing I ended up turning to. _Abel inhaled deeply. _And now she's gone, and I don't know if I will ever see her again. _A strange ache filled his gut as fought the urge to cry. He bent his head in shame.

A sudden flash of headlights bounced through the room, and Abel looked up. A massive black van slipped into the parking lot and parked next to a black Mercedes. A massive, black clad figure got out. At first, Abel thought it was intruder, but as the figure rounded the van, he removed his hat. Dark hair flowed freely. _Julius._ His curiosity piqued, Abel continued to watch as he opened the passenger door. A tiny, curvy, similarly clad female practically leapt from the seat and stood before her companion. Abel watched as she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him deeply. He watched as she melted into Julius. The kiss lasted a moment longer, and then Julius put her down.

_Julius has a girlfriend, _Abel's mind yelled in childish sing-song. He chuckled lightly to himself. He watched as he removed the girl's hat. Long, dark hair fell around her shoulders as she stared up at Julius in wide-eyed admiration. She kissed him voraciously once more, then she buried her head into his chest. Julius stroked her hair, and Abel watched as she turned her face in the direction of the clubhouse.

_Winsome_. Nausea roiled in Abel's gut. _That's his fucking mother. Oh my God. _He barely had time to lean by his garbage can before he vomited. The contents of his stomach retched into the trash. He shakily stood and looked out the window just in time to see Winsome unlock the black Mercedes and open the door. Julius leaned down for another kiss, which his mother returned. Abel's heart thundered against his chest as he watched. It was like a car accident; he couldn't look away, even though every single cell in his body begged for him to. He watched as she stepped in the car and sped off into the night. Julius got back into his van and followed. Once again, TM's parking lot was bathed in darkness, just as it had been before.

Abel's head spun as he processed what he'd seen. He sat on the bed, his head in his hands. He knew he'd witnessed something terrible and disgusting and evil, more evil than he'd ever seen. He rocked back and forth with the impact of the scene. _This is Chibs' old lady, and she…she…_

"Abel?" a voice spoke through the door. The sound was followed by a knock. _Tap tap tap. _"Are you okay?"

Abel stood and opened the door, only to find Thomas standing on the other side. His eyes were etched with sleeplessness and worry. Wendy's disappearance was taking a toll on Thomas, probably more than it did on Abel. Wendy was Thomas' only mother, even if she wasn't his biological mother. It was strange, the juxtaposition of it all: Abel felt Tara was his true mother, while Thomas thought of Wendy that way. Abel wondered if either one of them would ever find peace.

"I heard you throwing up. You sick?" Thomas queried. Abel stepped aside, letting Thomas in. Abel firmly but quietly shut the door. _No, I'm not sick little brother, _Abel thought. _But there's two motherfuckers outside that are. _

"I wish I were, Thomas," Abel replied. He watched as his younger brother's brows knitted together in confusion. He leaned heavily against his dresser, and Thomas noticed that it looked as if Abel had the entire weight of the world on his shoulders.

"What's wrong, Abel?" Thomas was growing worried.

"Sit down, Brother," Abel said heavily, "You don't want to be standing right now. You're not going to believe this shit."


	10. Chapter 10

Venus Van Dam had never been a heavy sleeper. Insomnia was one of many side-effects of being a child pornographer's kid. If sleep was an option at all, it was normally short-lived, and it always ended up ending around four in the morning. She'd get up and make her way into the kitchen, where she'd put coffee on. If Tig was home, and lately, he was home more often than not, he'd rise around seven or so to start his day. It had taken her a long time to appreciate the silence of the wee hours before dawn, but now, she reveled in the quiet.

Venus stared out the window as she sipped her coffee. The warmth traveled down her throat, and she closed her eyes. The aroma of the steaming cup did her soul good. She could hear Tig snoring softly. She smiled as the sound traveled down the hallway. _God, I love that man. _Over twenty-five years had passed since she met Tig Trager, and with every single second of every single day that had passed since, she thanked God for putting him in her life. It more than made up for the pain of her childhood.

A soft knock on the door startled her. Usually, early morning knocks never came with good news. Without hesitation, she padded quietly into the bedroom and grabbed his gun off the side table. She'd had more than her fair share of fear, and she knew now how to approach late night visitors. Her feet barely made a sound as she made her way towards the front door. Slowly, she hid the gun behind her back. Another soft knock sounded in quiet space.

"Who's there?" Venus' Southern lilt was low as she gripped the door handle.

"Venus, it's Abel. I have Thomas with me. Please let me in."

She exhaled, relieved at the sound of Abel's voice. She unlocked the door and opened it. Just beyond the screen door stood Jax Teller's boys. Abel was in front of Thomas. There were moments she allowed Abel's face to take her back to a time when Jax ruled the SAMCRO world, and it would all begin and end in Abel's crystal blue eyes. The relationship the two of them had developed over Abel's time in SAMCRO was very precious to her. Aside from her son Joey, Abel was the closest she'd ever come to being a mother.

"Please, come in," she whispered. Thomas surveyed her with cautious eyes. Venus knew the younger Teller didn't know how to regard her. They'd not had the chance to really sit down and talk. The boys had spent every waking moment they could searching for Wendy, and Venus knew that Thomas' worried eyes were better focused on the only mother he'd ever known, not on her.

Thomas had Jax's eyes too, but the rest, Venus reasoned, was all Tara. She'd never met Thomas' much revered biological mother, but Tig had explained Jax's love affair with her in grand detail. There were pictures of her stored at the clubhouse, and until Thomas arrived, the photographs and stories had all been just a story. With Thomas' arrival to Charming, Venus realized the tales Tig had spun were very much based in reality, and their tragedy culminated in the young man standing before her.

"C'mon back to the kitchen," she whispered, careful to not wake Tig. She led them to the light gray space. Thomas noticed the granite countertops and hardwood floors right away. There was no way the rough and tumble Tig Trager decorated the space; Thomas knew that, if Tig was left to his own devices, the kitchen would have been a white trash mix of yellow linoleum and floral wallpaper.

He watched as Venus flitted delicately around the kitchen. Amidst the search for coffee mugs, she'd placed Tig's Beretta on the countertop. Thomas' eyes widened, but he said nothing. Sometimes he forgot the kind of lifestyle SAMCRO led. It was the kind of lifestyle that made guns necessary, and Thomas immediately knew he wanted no part of that kind of life.

"How do you take it, sugar?" Venus asked as she filled the black cup with black coffee.

"Um, two sugars, four creams," Thomas answered. Abel smirked.

"You know how I take mine, Venus," Abel said. Venus smiled. She pushed a cup in Thomas' direction and poured Abel's preferred black. She grabbed her half consumed cup and sipped at it once more. The three of them sat at the small black kitchen table and stared blankly at one another.

"You know how I love visitors," Venus' soft voice broke the silence. "But I can't say I'm used to you coming at four in the morning."

"I'm sorry, Venus," Abel began. "I know it's late, but…"

"We needed to talk to you about something," Thomas finished. Venus was surprised at the baritone of his voice. She'd barely heard Thomas speak, and for some reason, she expected a softer tone. She was pleasantly surprised to find out manly he sounded.

"I figured as much," Venus countered. "I know you just don't show up here unannounced. Not without a reason."

"I respect you and Tig too much," Abel said, and Venus covered his hand with hers. In some ways, she saw Abel and Thomas as babies, not as men nearing their thirties. It was hard to reconcile that over two decades had already passed her by. She wasn't young anymore. She was reminded of that every single morning as her bones creaked and cried when she stood. She was just grateful her soul was still young, even if the rest of her wasn't.

"What's going on, baby?" Venus asked Abel. She watched as the older Teller brother clenched his jaw.

"I don't think you'd believe me, if I told you," Abel replied.

"Honey, I've seen just about everything you can think of," Venus answered back. She saw Thomas nod.

"Well, apparently, I haven't seen enough," Abel murmured. Venus saw Abel rock back and forth slightly.

"It doesn't matter what you've seen," Thomas interjected. "I've interned and worked in one of the worst ERs in the country, and nothing prepared me for what you saw." Abel looked at his brother, and like Venus, he was more than a little surprised. In the years that had passed since beginning his double life in Charming, Abel had forgotten that his little brother was a man just beginning his career. Perhaps one day soon, Thomas probably have a wife and kids and all the suburban shit Wendy and Nero had wanted for them. It was a sobering thought.

"What happened, Abel?" Venus was worried. The last time she'd seen Abel like this was when Chibs outright ostracized him from SAMCRO. Her eyes misted with the memory.

"I couldn't sleep," Abel began. "I keep thinking about Wendy. I keep wondering where the hell she is, if she's okay. I keep racking my goddamned brain, trying to figure out where the hell she could be. I know that we should have found her by now, and the fact that we haven't makes me question everything."

"Oh, darling, you should blame yourself. Wendy has disappeared into thin air, it seems. It'll take time…"

"Time isn't something we have, Venus, and you know it." Abel's words were more forceful than he meant them to be, but Venus didn't flinch. She seemed to understand Abel's moods better than Abel himself did.

"The point is, he was awake," Thomas said, trying to summarize his brother's long-winded introduction. Abel looked up and locked eyes with him. "That's why he was smoking. That's why he was looking out the window. That's why he saw what he saw. He wasn't looking to spy. He just couldn't sleep, that's all."

"What's Thomas talking about, Abel?" Venus felt her heart pound against her chest.

"I was smoking when I saw a huge black van roll up," Abel explained. "I saw Julius get out. At first, I didn't realize it was him. He was dressed in black and had a hat on. Hell, I didn't even know he had a van like that. "

"That's his van," Venus stated. "Believe it or not, the kid can cook like nobody's business." Abel's eyes widened at Venus' revelation. "Winsome bought it for him so he could start up a catering company. From what Chibs has said, he's making good money. I'm sure that makes his mama happy. I don't know if she was ever okay with him being around SAMCRO like he was. But I guess if you're with the club President, it's par for the course."

"Well, I didn't expect him to roll up on TM that late. When he got out, he walked to the other side of the van. A tiny woman stepped out. At first, she was dressed like Julius: black clothes, black hat. Julius took the hat off, and her hair fell down. She reached up and kissed him. They practically made out in the TM parking lot." Abel shivered with the memory as Thomas' belly grumbled.

"I didn't know Julius had a girlfriend." Venus' words fell like ice over Abel's body.

"That's exactly what I thought," Abel whispered. He swallowed hard, unsure of how to articulate the next sentence. Thomas saw his brother struggling.

"It wasn't his girlfriend, Venus," he interrupted. Venus met Thomas' eyes, and he swore that she knew what his next words would be.

"Then who was it?" she rasped.

"It was Winsome," Thomas stated. He watched as Venus' mouth dropped open. Her eyes registered shock. She stuttered and stammered, but no words came out of the typically eloquent woman.

What Thomas couldn't see was the explosion of history blowing up Venus' mind. Image after image of her mother, Alice, came back to haunt her.

"Face the camera, Vincent," she heard Alice say. "Let me see your eyes."

Nausea crept up on Venus as she fought to swallow tears. She stood and walked over to the sink. Shaky hands placed the coffee cup in the shiny, stainless steel sink. She leaned against it for support as her mother's voice echoed in her memory.

"C'mon Vin," Alice's voice bellowed. "You know what to do, you little fucking freak. You were born dirty. Now act like it."

Venus bit her lip. Her mother's last moments played vividly inside her mind. Her heart constricted painfully as she remembered Joey, drugged and unconscious, on his mother's couch. She remembered Alice's words stabbing into her as she fought to get her son back.

_"This boy's going to blow his brains out before his balls completely drop. Not 'cause of me, or his dead mama, but because of you. The awful thing that turned out to be his father."_ Each word was its own separate stab wound in her heart. Venus knew what she was now, and none of Alice's ugly words were true, but the sound of her voice and the hate in her speech were what Venus' nightmares were made of.

A single tear fell as Venus remembered the sound of Jax's bullet sinking into Alice's skull. She realized long ago that Alice's death wasn't her fault, but that didn't mean the memories didn't burn in her soul. Even now, with Joey three thousand miles away, living in Miami with his husband, Marc, Venus couldn't help but wonder what she would have become had Alice just been normal. The only comfort she could take from her past was that Joey now knew the truth, and he loved Venus regardless.

"Venus?" Thomas' voice shattered her flashbacks to hell. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she choked out. She turned to face Abel and Thomas. "Are you sure that's what you saw, Abel? I mean, I've never seen her act inappropriately with Julius…" To be fair, Alice was never inappropriate with her in public either. All that terror happened behind closed doors. Abel didn't vocalize an answer; he simply nodded.

"What do we do now?" Thomas asked. Venus looked at Tara's son. His eyes were just like his brother's, just like his father's, and they brimmed with intelligence. He was calm and collected, unlike his older brother, who shook like a leaf as he sipped his coffee.

"We find out what the hell is going on," Venus answered. She crossed her arms under her impressive bosom. "We ask Julius what his mama has done."

"That's easier said than done," Thomas countered. "How well do you know Winsome?"

"Well enough to know I've never liked her," Venus replied. "She's always looked out for herself first. I always chalked it up to her being a recovering addict. When you go through recovery, you kind of have to put yourself first."

Thomas nodded. "So you aren't close with her." Venus shook her head.

"We don't have bad blood, but we're not gossiping at the local beauty parlor either." Venus smiled, and Thomas thought it a brilliant and beautiful one.

"So, how are you going to talk to Julius?" Thomas queried.

"You let me figure that out," Venus said. She walked over to Abel and squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. He looked up at her, relieved to be believed by someone besides Thomas. Deep within his gut, he knew Thomas would believe anything he told him, just because they were brothers. Venus didn't owe him anything. The fact that she believed him helped more than he'd realized.

"Are you going to tell Tig?" Thomas asked. He stood. Venus hadn't noticed how tall Abel's younger brother was. He was at least six four. His shoulders were broad and strong, and his legs seemed endless in his old, weathered jeans. Abel followed suit. He was about three inches shorter than Thomas, but he was thicker and more heavily muscled. Venus' breath caught as she watched them stand side-by-side.

_These boys are amazing, Jackson. They have so much of you in them, and I know they will make you proud. Hell, I'm proud of them, and they're not even mine. _

"I don't see where I have a choice, Thomas. I don't keep things from Al…I mean, Tig."

"We don't want Chibs to know anything until we have proof, Venus." Abel turned to his brother. Thomas talked plans and secrets with ease. Abel realized his little brother was far better at handling these problems than he was. His conscience wondered if Thomas should be the one sitting in as possible President, not him.

"Leave Alex to me," Venus stated quietly. "I'll get you the answers you want. When he wakes up, I'll talk to him." Thomas nodded, satisfied with her answer, and Abel, still quite shaken, nodded as well. "When we figure out a plan, I will call you, ok?"

"Sounds good," Abel said quietly.

"We should be going," Thomas said. "I don't want to be here when Tig wakes up. I think if he heard what you saw from us, he'd be more likely to act rashly."

Venus blinked. _Who is this man standing in my kitchen? Surely, this isn't the young kid that just came to TM a month ago. _Maybe he'd always been like this, and she simply hadn't noticed. _You can always judge a man by how well he handles pressure. _Venus looked at Abel and secretly hoped he'd get over the demons that were plaguing him.

"You're right Thomas," Abel said. He turned to Venus and embraced her. "Thank you."

"Anytime, Abel. You know that." She turned to Thomas. He extended his hand, and she took it. He shook it firmly as he looked into her eyes.

"We'll talk to you soon," Thomas stated. Venus nodded. She turned to lead them out. As she opened the door, she noticed how the sun had cracked the black mask of night. She watched as Abel slid into Thomas' rented Honda. She was surprised that Abel hadn't rose his motorcycle, but as the Teller boys sped away, it made sense. The Honda was far quieter than Abel's Harley. Venus suddenly realized that they hadn't come to talk to Tig at all; they just wanted her. A small piece of her heart swelled with pride. It was good to be needed sometimes. She closed the door and walked back to the kitchen. Once there, she started a fresh pot of coffee. The smell of Colombian coffee beans filled the kitchen.

The sun peeked out from a purple sky and cast long, golden shadows on her beautiful, green backyard. She smiled as she heard the rustle of sheets followed by the soft thud of Tig's bare feet against the hardwood floor. She heard him pad into the kitchen, and she reveled in the sensation of her man's chest against her back. A long, finely chiseled arm encircled her waist, and she closed her eyes.

"Good morning, baby," Tig whispered in her ear. "That coffee smells amazing. So do you."

Wordlessly, Venus leaned into Tig. She loved the sensation of his touch. As much as Abel and Thomas' visit still loomed fresh in her mind, she didn't want to talk to him about it yet. The only thing Venus Van Dam wanted was for her man to hold her just a little longer.


End file.
